.msL 


■^gv:  i    -VK 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 


PRESENTED  BY 

PRO  F.CHARLES  A.  KOFOID  AND 

MRS.  PRUDENCE  W.  KOFOID 


A   Courier  of  Empire 


HE    SPRANG    FROM   THE    LEDGE    INTO   THE    STREAM. 


A  Courier  of  Empire 

A   STORY   OF    MARCUS   WHITMAN'S 
RIDE    TO    SAVE   OREGON 


BY 


JOHN    H.    WHITSON 

AUTHOR  OF  "  WITH  FREMONT,  THE  PATHFINDER,"  ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED   BY 
CHASE   EMERSON 


W.    A.   WILDE   COMPANY 

BOSTON  CHICAGO 


{/ 


Copyright,  igo4, 

By  W.  a.  Wilde  Company. 

All  rights  reserved. 


A  Courier  of  Empire. 


^5G 


Preface 


The  name  of  Marcus  Whitman  is  linked  inseparably 
with  the  great  Northwestern  region  once  known  as 
Oregon,  comprising  an  area  much  greater  than  the 
state  which  now  bears  that  name.  Whitman's  ride 
across  three  thousand  miles  of  wintry  wilderness  to 
save  Oregon  to  the  Union  was  one  of  the  most  re- 
markable achievements  in  the  history  of  our  land, 
though  until  recently  comparatively  unrecognized. 
Whitman's  famous  ride  and  much  of  the  history  of 
his  life  in  connection  with  early  Oregon  are  here  set 
forth.  In  his  previous  book  for  boys,  ''With  Fremont, 
the  Pathfinder,"  the  author  followed  the  career  of  Gen- 
eral John  C.  Fremont,  and  gave  an  account  of  the 
manner  in  which  California  became  a  part  of  the 
Union.  The  aim  of  the  present  volume  is  to  show,  in 
the  form  of  an  interesting  and  entertaining  story,  how 
the  vast  region  called  Oregon  became  a  part  of  the 
United  States.  It  is  hoped  it  will  meet  with  the  favor 
shown  the  previous  work. 


ivi3.14.145 


Contents 


I. 

II. 
III. 

IV. 

V. 

VI. 

VII. 

VIII. 

IX. 

X. 

XI. 

XII. 

XIII. 

XIV. 

XV. 

XVI. 

XVII. 

XVIII. 

XIX. 

XX. 


TiMuiTTi's  Brother 

Perils  of  the  Trapper        .... 
Outwitting  the  Crows         .... 

At  Green  River 

Marcus  Whitman 

The  White-headed  Eagle  of  the  Columbia 

Prophets  of  Evil 

An  Important  Matter  .... 
A  Dinner  and  a  Boast  .... 
Whitman's  Ride  to  save  Oregon 
Mutterings  of  the  Storm  .... 
Matpah  gets  a  Ducking  .... 
The  Wolf  Meeting 


Umtippi,  the  Medicine 

Prisoners  in  an  Indian 

The  Escape    . 

Phil's  Adventures 

Startling  News    . 

Cora  Carlton 

Matpah's  Defiance 

7 


Man 
Village 


PAGE 
II 

21 

31 

52 
58 
69 
82 

91 

98 
105 

IIS 

126 

135 

146 

161 

179 
193 
208 

222 
230 


8 


CONTENTS 


XXI.  Phil's  Courageous  Work  . 

XXII.  The  Chief  Factor's  Message    . 

XXIII.  The  Conference  and  its  Result 

XXIV.  The  Cayuse  War 

XXV.  Trapped 

XXVI.  The  Heroism  of  Old  Tilskit    . 

XX VII.  Conclusion    ...... 


238 
251 
258 
268 
282 
298 
311 


Illustrations 

PAGE 

"  He  sprang  from  the  ledge  into  the  stream  " 

Frontispiece  17 

*'  Indians  and  trappers  had  gathered  about  them  "         .  55 

**  He  dashed  courageously  upon  the  brute  "  .         .         .  137 

'*' Now  is  our  time,' Phil  whispered  "  ....  185 

"' I  defy  the  Bostons '" 270 


A   Courier   of   Empire 

CHAPTER    I 
TIMUITTrS   BROTHER 

THE  appearance  of  Phil  Curtis,  as  he  came  out  of 
the  lodge  of  Tilskit,  chief  of  the  Cayuse  Indians, 
would  have  delighted  the  eye  of  any  boy  of  to-day, 
for  his  deerskin  leggings  were  of  the  newest  and 
whitest,  his  moccasins  shone  with  beadwork,  his 
fringed  hunting-shirt,  belted  in  at  the  waist,  was 
quilled  and  ornamented  most  elaborately,  and  the 
round  cap  that  protected  his  head  was  of  the  glossiest 
beaver  skin. 

In  the  lodge  behind  him  stood  an  Indian  woman 
whose  look  of  kindliness  and  pride  was  mixed  with 
something  of  anxiety  and  sorrow.  This  was  Neekomy, 
wife  of  the  chief,  and  her  deft  fingers  had  fashioned 
the  clothing  which  set  so  well  on  the  straight  and 
handsome  boy. 

As  Phil  Curtis  emerged  thus  from  the  lodge  and 
looked   out   over  the  tiny   clustering   Indian   village,   a 

II 


12  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

group  of  men  came  into  view  from  the  worn  game 
trail  that  ran  by  way  of  the  mountain  gulch  to  the 
swift  river.  They  were  Indians,  with  one  exception. 
This  exception  was  Phil's  father,  a  tall,  bearded  trapper, 
whose  soiled  deerskins  contrasted  strongly  with  those 
in  which  his  son  was  now  arrayed.  He  appeared  to 
be  moving  in  the  midst  of  an  Indian  escort.  By  his 
side  walked  a  plumed  chief,  who  was  none  other  than 
Tilskit  himself,  just  returned  from  a  successful  hunting 
trip  into  the  mountains.  Behind  the  trapper  and  the 
Indians  came  ponies  laden  with  game,  the  fruits  of  the 
hunt. 

The  Indian  woman  spoke,  in  her  native  tongue,  from 
the  shadow  of  the  lodge  :  — 

"  It  is  good.  The  great  chief  thinks  warm  thoughts, 
for  he  has  much  game.  His  face  shines.  His  eyes 
are  filled  with  favor;    it  is  well,  and  you  may  go." 

As  if  this  were  a  signal,  though  it  was  not,  an 
Indian  boy  stepped  from  the  lodge  to  Phil's  side.  His 
attire  was  an  exact  counterpart  of  that  worn  by  Phil, 
even  to  the  rude  figure  of  the  salmon  wrought  in 
white  beads,  which  ornamented  the  breast  of  the 
hunting-shirt.  This  boy  placed  his  hand  somewhat 
timidly  on  Phil's  arm. 

"Boston  soon  be  Timuitti's  brother,"  he  said,  in 
broken  English.     Then  added  instantly,  in  the  Cayuse 


TIMUITTl'S    BROTHER  13 

tongue,   "  But  he  has  been  my  brother  always,  since 
the  time  at  the  great  river." 

Without  once  looking  at  the  lodge  where  the  boys 
stood  with  the  Indian  woman  behind  them,  the  chief 
and  the  trapper  turned  toward  a  larger  lodge,  which 
they  entered,  the  Indians  crowding  after  them. 

Again  the  Indian  woman  spoke,  this  time  in  a  more 
encouraging  way,  and  the  two  boys,  so  alike  in  their 
clothing,  yet  so  unHke  in  all  things  else,  walked  together 
toward  the  lodge  into  which  the  trapper  and  the  Indians 
had  vanished.  At  the  door  they  stopped,  in  hesitation. 
Then  the  Indian  boy  pulled  aside  the  flap  with  a  sort 
of  reckless  courage,  thus  revealing  the  interior. 

Behind  him  Phil  heard  the  voices  of  squaws  and 
children,  the  snarling  of  dogs,  and  the  loud  hum  of 
excited  conversation ;  before  him  he  saw  his  father 
and  Tilskit  seated  on  a  bearskin  rug,  the  other  occu- 
pants of  the  lodge  crowding  about  or  seeking  seats  on 
furs  or  on  the  grass  which  formed  the  floor. 

Then  he  was  being  led  forward  by  the  Cayuse  boy, 
and  a  moment  later  was  standing  in  front  of  the 
plumed  chief,  who  had  his  ceremonial  pipe  out  and 
was  rubbing  some  willow  bark  in  his  hands  prepara- 
tory to  the  formal  smoke  which  usually  precedes  an 
Indian  conference. 

Phil  looked  at  his  father,  whose  dark,  wind-burned 


14  A   COURIER  OF   EMPIRE 

face  showed  no  surprise.  The  Cayuse  boy  was  looking 
at  his  own  father,  the  chief,  who  had  stopped  in  his 
work  of  pulverizing  the  willow  bark  and  was  regarding 
his  son  with  questioning  intentness.  Just  the  shade 
of  a  frown  came  to  the  chief's  face  when  he  observed 
the  clothing  that  Phil  wore. 

For  a  full  minute  he  said  nothing.  Outside  the  hum 
of  talk  rose  and  fell  like  the  low  murmur  of  a  waterfall, 
but  within  the  lodge  utter  silence  reigned.  The  mind 
of  the  chief  had  leaped  the  barrier  of  more  than  a  year, 
as  Phil's  had  done. 

What  each  saw  and  remembered  was  a  swift  tribu- 
tary of  the  Columbia  River,  swollen  and  impetuous 
from  heavy  rains,  rolling  in  mad  and  turbid  flight 
toward  the  greater  river  and  the  sea.  On  every  hand 
towered  precipitous  cliffs  and  canon  walls,  between 
which  the  wild  river  sped  in  its  flight.  On  a  level 
spot  near  by  was  an  Indian  village,  occupied  by  this 
band  of  the  Cayuse  tribe.  There  children  were  play- 
ing, dogs  barking  and  racing,  ponies  grazing,  squaws 
cleaning  and  drying  fish,  while  over  all  the  blue  smoke 
of  lodge  fires  rose  skyward  as  if  to  bar  out  the  circHng 
and  screaming  gulls. 

Along  the  river,  wherever  a  rock  jutted  into  the 
stream  or  thrust  up  a  black  back  to  tear  at  the  racing 
water  Hke  a  saw,  stood  Indian  boys  and   men,  armed 


TIMUITTFS   BROTHER  15 

with  salmon  spears,  or  with  long  poles  to  which  nets 
were  attached ;  for  the  fishing  season  was  at  its  height, 
and  the  salmon,  crowding  in  from  the  sea,  were  seeking 
to  ascend  the  streams,  impelled  by  that  strange  instinct 
which  drives  them  far  up  into  the  fresh-water  rivers 
to  deposit  their  eggs.  The  mad,  roaring  river  was 
alive  with  the  fish,  and  the  Cayuse  Indians  were  busily 
engaged  in  securing  their  annual  harvest. 

Phil  Curtis  was  there  with  his  father.  They  had 
come  up  from  the  trappers'  post  at  Vancouver,  a 
month  before,  and  had  been  trapping,  hunting,  and 
fishing  near  the  river  ever  since.  On  this  day  Phil 
stood  with  some  Indian  boys  on  a  narrow  shelf  of 
granite  overhanging  the  river,  and  was  dipping  up 
salmon  with  a  net,  and  flinging  them  out  on  the  rocks. 
The  Indian  boys,  two  of  whom  were  the  sons  of  Tilskit, 
the  Cayuse  chief,  had  become  unduly  excited,  for  their 
luck  was  great,  and  this  was  play  for  them,  not 
work. 

Suddenly  a  net,  dipped  incautiously  into  the  swift 
river  by  a  laughing  boy,  was  caught  by  the  wild  cur- 
rent, which  swung  it  sidewise  with  incredible  force. 
It  was  as  if  a  giant  hand  had  reached  up  and  plucked 
the  boy  from  his  footing  on  the  granite  shelf.  Seeking 
to  save  himself  from  the  river,  he  threw  his  arms  about 
Timuitti,  his  brother.      The  next  instant  both  were  in 


1 6  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

the  boiling  waters,  which   sucked  them  under  and  out 
of  sight. 

Phil  Curtis,  who  had  been  standing  but  a  few  yards 
below  them,  on  seeing  the  accident  ran  swiftly  down 
stream  as  far  as  the  ledge  would  permit.  The  Indian 
boys  were  too  much  excited  to  do  anything  but  howl. 
They  did  this,  however,  with  all  their  might,  though 
the  thunder  of  the  river  prevented  the  sound  from 
being  carried  very  far. 

As  Phil  reached  the  limit  of  the  shelf,  he  saw  the 
two  sons  of  Tilskit  rise  like  a  revolving  wheel  to  the 
surface  of  the  stream.  Locked  in  each  other's  arms, 
they  were  struggling  frantically,  and,  as  Phil  knew, 
drowning.  There  was  no  time  for  consideration.  Just 
below,  the  waters  fell,  spreading  out  into  a  somewhat 
placid  lakehke  arm  of  the  river,  though  beneath  that 
placid  surface  the  turbid  current  was  churning  in  a 
veritable  whirlpool. 

Phil  did  not  have  time  to  throw  off  his  clothing. 
He  had  no  time  for  anything,  not  even  to  think.  If  he 
had  considered  the  possible  consequences  to  himself, 
he  might  have  hesitated.  In  his  heart  was  a  great 
desire  to  save  those  boys,  with  whom  he  had  hunted, 
fished,  and  played,  and  whom  he  had  come  to  like  quite 
as  well  as  if  they  had  been  boys  of  his  own  race.  So, 
when  he  saw  them  whirled  upward  to  the  surface  of 


TiMUirrrs  brother  17 

the  treacherous  river,  and  observed  that  they  were 
being  carried  toward  the  pool,  he  sprang  from  the 
ledge  into  the  stream. 

He  could  swim  like  an  otter,  and  he  knew  it.  Hence 
it  did  not  seem  to  him  that  the  risk  he  ran  was  so  great 
as  it  really  was.  He  struck  the  water  fairly,  and  went 
under  like  a  diving  seal.  When  he  rose  to  the  surface, 
so  well  had  he  calculated  his  own  position  and  that 
of  the  Cayuse  boys  that  he  found  himself  within  two 
yards  of  one  of  them.  They  had  become  separated 
in  some  way,  and  one  went  under  again,  just  as  Phil 
came  up. 

The  other,  who  was  Timuitti,  was  flaying  the  water 
in  wild  excitement,  and  had  evidently  become  bewil- 
dered. Phil  saw  that  he,  too,  was  being  drawn  under, 
and  so  began  to  swim  toward  him  with  strong,  even 
strokes  which  fought  the  terrible  current  so  vigorously 
that  at  once  he  began  to  make  headway.  Timuitti  was 
sinking  from  sight  when  Phil's  sinewy  right  hand 
caught  him  by  the  hair. 

Then  came  a  struggle  which  Phil  could  never  for- 
get. He  was  swept  with  Timuitti  into  the  pool, 
w^here  the  churning  current  beneath  drew  him  down 
like  the  undertow  of  a  fierce  sea.  Twice  he  was 
dragged  under.  Then  the  current  hurled  him  and 
the  Indian   boy  toward   one    side    of   the   pool.     Here 


i8  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

came  the  final  fight.  Hampered  in  his  efforts  by 
Timuitti,  whom  he  still  held  by  the  hair,  and  who, 
now  unconscious,  had  ceased  his  wild  gyrations,  Phil 
essayed  again  and  again  to  reach  the  rocky  shore 
with  his  burden. 

He  pulled  in  until  but  a  few  yards  separated  him 
from  his  goal;  when,  beginning  to  weaken,  he  was 
caught  once  more,  and  might  have  been  swept  with 
the  Cayuse  boy  back  into  the  pool  had  not  some 
of  the  Indians,  gaining  that  point,  formed  a  rope  of 
themselves  by  joining  hands,  and  so  dragged  the 
two  out  upon  the  rocks. 

Many  things  had  happened  since  that  battle  with 
the  terrible  swollen  tributary  of  the  Columbia;  and 
now  Phil  and  Timuitti,  the  boy  he  had  saved,  had 
met  again  in  the  mountains  far  to  the  eastward  of 
that  salmon  stream. 

Phil  and  his  father,  both  trappers,  had  come  into 
the  village  but  an  hour  before,  after  discovering  that 
it  was  none  other  than  that  of  their  friends  of  the 
Cayuse  tribe.  Tilskit  and  some  of  his  hunters  were 
away  in  the  mountains,  though  expected  back  at  any 
time.  But  Phil  and  his  father  had  been  remembered 
by  the  friendly  natives,  especially  by  Timuitti  and 
Neekomy,  his  mother,  who  welcomed  them  with  every 
manifestation  of  kindness  and  good-will. 


TIMUITTI'S   BROTHER  19 

It  was  Neekomy  who  conceived  the  idea  that  was 
now  being  put  into  execution ;  Neekomy  who  had 
brought  out  from  her  few  treasures  the  ornamental 
suit  of  buckskin  which  had  belonged  to  the  son  who 
was  now  dead ;  Neekomy  who  had  instructed  Timuitti 
in  what  he  was  to  do  and  say,  and  who  now  in  the 
darkness  of  her  lodge  awaited  the  result  of  her 
efforts.  She  had  lost  one  son  in  the  wild  river ;  but 
the  other,  Timuitti,  in  whom  her  soul  delighted,  had 
been  saved  to  her  by  this  boy  with  the  white  face. 
Therefore,  she  would  honor  him  by  taking  him  into 
her  lodge  as  her  son  and  the  son  of  the  great  chief, 
Tilskit.  He  would  occupy  the  place  made  vacant  by 
the  death  of  Timuitti's  brother ;  he  would  become 
Timuitti's  brother!  And  as  John  Curtis,  Phil's  trap- 
per father,  had  not  objected  when  the  plan  was 
broached  to  him,  but  had  thought  well  of  it,  the 
thing  was  to  be  done,  if  it  pleased  the  chief.  Would 
it  please  him  .'' 

During  the  minute  in  which  Tilskit  was  staring  at 
the  white  boy,  the  latter  began  to  think  that  the 
chief  would  not  be  pleased.  He  even  began  to  fear  that 
the  chief  was  offended.  But  at  length  Tilskit's  counte- 
nance changed,  and  he  spoke,  looking  at  Timuitti. 

"  What  would  my  son .? "  he  asked,  breaking  the 
long  silence. 


20  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

"  It  is  the  wish  of  my  mother,  Neekomy,  that  the 
boy  who  saved  me  from  the  great  river  shall  be  my 
brother.  Since  the  water  drank  the  life  of  my 
brother,  she  has  no  son  but  Timuitti." 

There  was  a  shade  of  melancholy  in  the  grave 
face  of  the  Cayuse  chief,  as  he  turned  to  Phil,  at 
whom  he  again  looked  intently.  Another  painful 
silence  followed.     Then  the  chief  spoke  again. 

"My  son,"  he  said,  addressing  Phil,  ''I  know  that 
you  are  worthy.  It  shall  be  as  Neekomy  wishes. 
Henceforth,  you  are  Timuitti's  brother." 

Gravely  he  began  to  fill  the  peace  pipe  which  he 
held  in  his  hand.  The  Indians  in  the  lodge  began 
to  talk  in  pleased  gutturals.  Outside,  some  one  who 
had  been  watching  sped  away  with  the  tidings  to  the 
waiting  Neekomy.  Phil,  at  a  motion  from  his  father, 
sank  quietly  to  a  skin  rug,  with  Timuitti  at  his  side. 
In  a  little  while  all  within  the  lodge  were  seated, 
and  the  pipe  of  peace  passed  solemnly  from  lip 
to  lip. 

Phil  Curtis  was  a  Cayuse  Indian,  so  far  as  he 
could  be  made  one,  and  was  Timuitti's  brother. 


CHAPTER   II 

PERILS    OF   THE   TRAPPER 

WHEN  John  Curtis  arrived  with  his  son  at  Til- 
skit's  village,  he  was  not  well.  He  had  come 
from  far  to  the  northward,  and  the  long  journey  was 
one  of  hardship,  privation,  and  many  perils.  He  was 
glad,  therefore,  when  he  discovered  this  village  of 
friendly  Indians  and  was  able  to  run  his  log  canoe 
ashore  and  seek  rest  in  their  lodges.  For  many,  many 
miles  that  big  canoe  had  borne  him.  Through  canon 
clefts  and  down  swift  rapids  it  had  dashed,  guided 
by  skilful  paddles ;  over  many  a  leaping  cascade  and 
waterfall,  where  an  error  of  the  eye,  a  slip  of  the  hand, 
or  a  failing  of  the  nerves  meant  disaster  and  perhaps 
death. 

It  had  been  a  task  to  try  the  strength  and  courage 
of  the  stoutest  heart.  But  there  was  no  stouter  heart 
in  all  the  great  Northwestern  fur  country  than  that  of 
John  Curtis,  and  his  son  was  like  him.  Where  the 
great  ridges  of  the  Rockies  lift  in  titanic  and  splin- 
tered peaks   far    up    toward    the    Canadian   line,  John 

21 


22  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

Curtis  had  trapped  the  head  waters  of  the  mountain 
streams.  And  the  big  canoe  which  bore  him  and  his 
son  at  last  from  the  rich  hunting-grounds,  carried  his 
store  of  furs.  The  work  had  been  attended  by  many 
dangers,  from  Indians,  from  cold,  from  wild  beasts ; 
but  the  run  in  the  canoe  down  the  swift  mountain 
streams  involved  many  more.  Everywhere  the  fierce 
Blackfeet  lay  in  wait,  eager  for  scalps  and  plunder ; 
and  the  Crows,  not  so  implacable  and  bloodthirsty,  but 
thieves  by  instinct,  vied  with  the  Blackfeet  in  making 
every  river,  trail,  and  mountain  pass  a  terror. 

John  Curtis  had  evaded  all  his  enemies.  He  had  run 
wild  rapids  and  boiling  whirlpools  on  moonless  and 
starless  nights  that  he  might  escape  them,  had  slipped 
boldly  and  swiftly  past  villages  of  hostiles  in  the  early 
dawn  while  the  river  smoke  hung  like  a  white  canopy 
on  the  surface  of  the  steaming  water,  and  had  lain  in 
hiding  in  thicket  and  coulee  through  weary  hours,  with 
his  canoe  and  precious  furs  well  concealed,  while  the 
blazing  sun  moved  in  slow  dignity  across  the  blue  high- 
way of  the  sky. 

So  cautious  had  been  this  veteran  trapper  —  with  a 
caution  learned  by  years  of  experience  in  the  Western 
wilds  —  that  when  he  detected  the  smoke  of  the 
Cayuse  lodges  he  pushed  his  canoe  beneath  a  shelving 
rock,  and  mounting  to  a  high  hill  surveyed  the  village 


PERILS   OF   THE   TRAPPER  23 

long  and  carefully.  Even  after  he  knew  that  these 
Indians  were  a  wandering  band  of  the  Cayuse  tribe, 
who  were  supposed  to  be  friendly,  he  did  not  venture 
to  make  his  presence  known  until  he  had  crept  almost 
into  the  village  itself  and  beheld  famiHar  faces. 

"A  rest  of  a  few  days,"  he  said,  speaking  to  Tilskit, 
at  the  close  of  the  ''long  talk"  with  the  Cayuses,  "will 
make  me  all  right  again.  I  am  worn  out,  that  is  all, 
and  rest  is  what  I  need.  I  am  glad  that  I  fell  in  with 
your  people ;  for,  besides  the  rest  I  must  have,  I  shall 
want  to  bu}'  some  ponies  of  you.  I  have  been  hoping 
for  a  chance  to  land  somev/here  along  here  and  strike 
across  for  Green  River,  where  I  can  sell  my  pelts.  To 
do  that  I  need  ponies." 

John  Curtis  had  other  talks  with  Tilskit,  and  even 
made  some  minor  preparations  for  the  journey  to  Green 
River.  But  he  was  delayed  by  increasing  weakness 
and  lassitude,  and  at  last  was  stricken  down  with  fever. 
The  Cayuses  were  not  skilled  as  doctors ;  but  in  this 
emergency  they  did  what  they  could,  and  the  careful 
nursing  of  his  son  did  the  rest.  It  was  a  month,  how- 
ever, before  John  Curtis  was  able  to  be  about  and  to 
take  short  walks ;  and  then  it  was  found  that  the  fever 
had  left  a  Hngering  weakness  that  threatened  to  inca- 
pacitate him  for  a  long  time  to  come. 

In   the   meantime    the    Indian  restlessness  and  love 


24  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

of  change  had  made  itself  manifest.  The  Cayuses 
declared  that  they  wanted  to  begin  a  movement  toward 
the  coast ;  it  was  many,  many  miles  away,  they  urged, 
and  the  journey  would  occupy  many  moons,  travelling 
as  they  did  with  frequent  stops  to  fish  and  hunt  in 
favorable  places.  John  Curtis  tried  his  arts  of  per- 
suasion to  get  them  to  move  in  the  direction  of  Green 
River,  but  they  had  no  furs  to  sell,  so  would  not  lend  a 
favoring  ear  to  his  importunities. 

When  it  was  evident  that  the  Indians  were  getting 
ready  to  move,  and  that  they  did  not  intend  to  move  in 
the  direction  of  Green  River,  John  Curtis,  who  was 
still  very  weak  from  his  recent  serious  illness,  held  a 
long  and  earnest  conference  with  his  son. 

"  It  may  take  these  lazy  fellows  months  to  reach  the 
Columbia,  though  I  think  they  will  be  there  by  salmon 
fishing  time.  But  where  they  will  be,  or  to  what  point 
they  will  wander,  between  now  and  then,  is  pure  guess- 
work. 

'•  Now,  it's  plain  that  in  the  condition  I'm  in  it's 
best  for  me  to  stay  with  Tilskit  and  his  people,  at 
least  until  I'm  much  better  and  stronger.  I  don't 
think  I  ever  felt  so  weak  in  my  Hfe.  That  moun- 
tain fever  did  it.  It  took  away  my  strength  gen- 
erally, and  greatly  weakened  my  heart,  so  that  now 
I  could  no  more  pull  a  paddle  in  a  swift  current,  or 
ride  a  horse  all  day,  than  I  could  fly. 


PERILS   OF   THE   TRAPPER  25 

"Tilskit  says  that  his  people  are  going,  and  he 
cannot  keep  them  from  doing  so.  The  truth  is,  he 
wants  to  be  on  the  niove  as  much  as  any  of  them. 
These  Indians  are  all  alike.  When  they  want  to 
move  they're  like  gypsies  — nothing  can  keep  them. 
But  he  says  that  they  will  make  easy  journeys  for 
some  time,  until  I'm  stronger.  I  think  they  will  do 
that ;  and  they'll  take  care  of  me  as  if  I  was  one 
of  them,  more  on  your  account  than  on  mine.  I'm 
glad  they  feel  that  way,  for  I  see  I've  got  to  stay 
with  them. 

"As  soon  as  I'm  stronger,  if  they  don't  go  fast 
enough  to  suit  me,  I  shall  leave  them  and  strike  out 
for  the  Columbia  myself.  I  know  the  trails,  and  can 
get  through  all  right,  without  trouble,  just  as  soon 
as  I'm  really  fit  to  travel. 

''And  that  brings  me  up  to  what  I  want  to  talk 
to  you  about.  You  know  the  trails  to  Green  River, 
for  we've  been  over  them  together.  Though  you're 
young,  you're  already  as  good  a  mountain  man  as  I 
am.  Our  furs  ought  to  .go  through  at  once,  for  the 
traders  and  trappers  are  already  there  and  no  time 
is  to  be  lost." 

Phil  Curtis  had  guessed  what  was  coming  long 
before  his  father  reached  this  point.  He,  too,  felt 
that   those   valuable   furs,    the    result   of   a   season   of 


26  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

arduous  toil,  ought  not  to  be  knocking  round  an 
Indian  village  for  months,  deteriorating  and  accumu- 
lating dirt,  when  there  was  an  excellent  market  for 
them  at  Green  River,  the  great  annual  meeting  place 
of  all  the  fur  buyers  and  white  and  Indian  trappers 
of  that  vast  region.  True,  the  trail  might  be  dan- 
gerous, but  he  did  not  think  the  danger  would  be 
great,  and  he  knew  the  way  well. 

**  I  can  take  them  through  all  right,"  he  said,  in 
answer  to  his  father's  implied  question.  *'  There  are 
some  bad  places  in  the  trail,  and  the  going  will  be 
rather  slow  with  loaded  ponies ;  but  I  ought  to  make 
it  in  something  over  two  weeks,  don't  you  think  ? 
What  troubles  me  most  is  that  I  don't  like  to  leave 
you  while  you're  not  well." 

His  father  looked  out  across  the  level  grass-land  by 
the  river  to  the  mountains  that  appeared  to  bar  the 
way.  To  a  man  of  civilization  that  journey  would 
have  been  long ;  but  to  a  trapper  of  the  John  Curtis 
type,  whose  life  was  made  up  of  isolation  and  long 
expeditions,  it  seemed  short. 

"  I  hate  to  have  you  go,"  he  said;  "but  two  weeks, 
or  maybe  a  little  more,  ought  to  take  you  there. 
The  Cayuse  ponies  are  in  fine  condition  now  and 
they'll  travel  well.  They've  been  having  a  lazy  time 
all  summer,  and  you  can   line   them    out   all   the  way 


PERILS   OF   THE   TRAPPER  27 

at  a  lively  clip.  You  may  have  to  do  some  night 
travelling,  and  lay  by  in  the  daytime,  if  you  come 
across  Indian  signs.  But  I  don't  think  you'll  meet 
any  Indians  at  this  season  of  year,  if  you  take  the 
southern  trail,  which  is  the  one  we  went  over  last. 
It's  a  little  longer,  and  harder  going  in  places,  but 
it  ought  to  be  safe.  I  shouldn't  let  you  try  it,  if 
I  didn't  think  you  could  make  it  all  right.  But  you 
know  how  to  take  care  of  yourself,  Phil ! " 

Nevertheless,  he  looked  thoughtfully  at  the  tops 
of  the  mountains ;  and  for  a  while  it  seemed  that  he 
was  almost  on  the  point  of  abandoning  his  design 
to  send  his  son  on  alone  with  the  furs  to  Green 
River.  Then  his  face  grew  firm ;  he  was  a  deter- 
mined man,  and  peril  was  a  part  of  his  life.  To  live 
for  any  length  of  time  in  a  land  where  there  was 
no  peril  would  have  been  to  him  a  new  sensation. 
A  trapper's  life  held  little  else  but  danger,  and  he 
had  bred  his  son  to  the  calHng  of  a  trapper. 

"  I've  already  talked  to  Tilskit  about  the  ponies," 
he  went  on.  "  I  can  trade  him  the  canoe  and  some 
of  the  furs  that  he's  taken  a  notion  to.  You'll  want 
six  good  ponies  :  one  for  yourself  and  five  to  carry 
the  furs.  I  could  get  more,  but  that  will  be  as  many 
as  you'll  need.  And  I'll  meet  you  at  Walla  Walla; 
or,  if   I   miss  you  there,  at  Vancouver.     You   can   go 


28  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

down  the  regular  trail  into  the  Oregon  country,  after 
you've  sold  the  furs,  and  no  doubt  you'll  be  on  the 
Columbia  before  I  am.  If  I  haven't  reached  Walla 
Walla,  wait  for  me  there ;  and  if  I've  been  there 
and  gone  on  to  Vancouver,  follow  me  as  fast  as  you 
can,  and  I'll  stay  there  until  you  come." 

This  was  the  substance  of  John  Curtis's  long  talk 
with  his  son,  and  of  the  instructions  which  Phil  received. 

The  next  day  the  strong,  hardy  boy,  whose  spirit 
was  as  courageous  and  indomitable  as  that  of  his 
trapper  father,  began  preparations  for  the  journey  to 
Green  River.  With  the  assistance  of  his  father  he 
selected  six  ponies  from  the  Cayuse  herd.  On  the 
one  he  was  to  ride  he  tied  food  and  a  few  necessaries, 
in  addition  to  a  small  blanket  roll  of  skins  for  sleep- 
ing purposes.  To  these  were  added  a  battered  tin 
cup,  a  frying  pan,  and  other  needed  articles  of  similar 
character. 

Wherever  Phil  went  that  day  with  his  father,  he  was 
accompanied  by  his  new  brother,  Timuitti,  and  by  other 
Indian  boys,  who  had  conceived  a  strong  liking  for 
him.  Tilskit  himself  stalked  about  among  the  ponies 
while  the  six  were  being  selected.  The  other  Indians, 
with  the  one  exception  of  Neekomy,  who  disliked  to 
part  from  her  new  son  so  soon,  showed  the  marked 
indifference  which  an  Indian  habitually  assumes. 


PERILS   OF   THE  TRAPPER  29 

That  afternoon  Phil  Curtis  set  out  on  his  lonely  ride, 
accompanied  to  the  edge  of  the  village  by  Neekomy, 
Tilskit,  Timuitti,  and  other  Cayuses,  who  were  really 
sorry  to  have  him  depart.  Phil's  father  walked  on  by 
the  side  of  the  pony  until  the  mountains  were  near. 
There  he  shook  hands  with  his  son  quietly,  —  he  was 
never  a  man  to  give  expression  to  his  feeUngs,  —  added 
a  few  final  instructions  and  cautions,  and  turned  back 
toward  the  Cayuse  lodges,  walking  slowly  and  feebly. 

Phil  brushed  away  a  tear  as  he  straightened  up  in 
the  rude  Indian  saddle  and  turned  the  pony  into  the 
pass  that  led  to  the  southern  trail.  Then  he  threw  his 
long-barrelled  rifle  across  the  saddle  in  front  of  him, 
and  glanced  keenly  ahead  over  the  way  he  was  going. 
He,  too,  was  a  trapper  of  the  great  Northwest,  and 
they  were  never  a  weeping  nor  a  faint-hearted  race. 

He  was  wearing  the  wonderful  deerskin  suit  with 
the  salmon  on  the  breast  of  the  hunting-shirt,  which 
Neekomy  had  given  him,  and  that,  with  his  tanned 
face  and  the  long  hair  falling  from  under  his  cap, 
made  him  look  more  like  an  Indian  than  a  white 
boy.  He  was  tall  and  strong,  too,  for  his  sixteen 
years — taller  and  stronger  than  most  boys  of  that 
age. 

All  the  arts  and  artifices  of  the  hunter,  the  trapper, 
and  the    Indian   his  father   had   taught   him.      As  he 


30  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

looked  ahead  along  the  pass  his  keen  gray  eyes  caught 
the  flutter  of  every  leaf,  the  movement  of  every  bough. 
He  noted  the  dipping,  jerky  flight  of  the  mountain 
butterfly,  the  flirted  tail  of  the  magpie  on  the  high 
rock,  the  sinuous  movement  of  the  grass  as  the  wind 
rustled  through  it ;  and  his  sharp  ears  heard  every 
note  of  bird,  or  hum  of  insect,  or  call  of  animal. 

Behind  him  followed  the  trained  Indian  ponies,  with 
quick  thuddings  of  unshod  hoofs.  The  grass  deadened 
the  sound,  and  no  dust  cloud  was  raised  by  their  pass- 
ing. Beyond  the  first  tall  cliffs  and  the  mountains, 
which  were  butte-like  in  appearance,  the  ground  fell 
away  in  long  undulations,  like  the  roll  of  the  sea. 

Thus  Phil  Curtis  passed  out  and  away  from  the 
Cayuse  village,  with  eye  alert,  ear  attentive,  and  rifle 
held  in  readiness,  though  he  was  sure  no  danger  was 
near.  His  attitude  was  but  the  mental  habit  which, 
under  the  tuition  of  his  trapper  father,  had  become  a 
part  of  his  nature. 


CHAPTER    III 

OUTWITTING    THE   CROWS 

WHEN  night  fell  Phil  removed  the  burdens  from 
his  ponies  and  lariated  the  animals  where  they 
could  feed  on  the  rich  bunch  grass  that  grew  in  a 
narrow  coulee.  A  sparkling  stream  coursed  down 
from  the  mountains  not  far  away.  It  was  an  ideal 
camping  spot. 

Phil  was  in  a  cheerful  frame  of  mind.  The  loneli- 
ness had  no  terrors  for  him.  In  truth,  he  did  not 
feel  lonely.  The  animals  were  feeding  near,  and  his 
thoughts  were  company.  He  loved  the  great  silence 
and  the  vast  spaces  of  the  mountains  and  the  wilder- 
ness. The  idea  of  loneliness,  if  it  had  been  suggested 
to  him,  would  have  brought  an  amused  and  incredulous 
smile  to  his  face.  In  the  sense  in  which  a  modern 
city  boy  transported  to  the  country  feels  loneliness,  he 
did  not  know  what  it  was. 

He  was  cheerful,  because  he  had  made  such  good 
progress  that  day,  and  because  at  the  end  of  the 
afternoon's  travel  the  ponies  showed  so  few  signs  of 
weariness.       Then,    too,    he    had   recovered    from    the 

31 


32  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

wrench  given  to  his  affections  by  that  pathetic  parting 
with  his  father.  He  had  turned  from  that  and  was 
looking  forward  to  their  reunion  in  Oregon  or  at  Van- 
couver. A  long  time  would  elapse,  he  knew,  before 
that  could  take  place;  but  the  meeting  would  come, 
at  the  end  of  it,  and  then  to  the  joy  of  being  together 
once  more  would  be  added  the  knowledge  that  he  had 
acquitted  himself  courageously  and  honorably. 

As  for  the  dangers  that  might  lie  between  his  present 
camping  place  and  Green  River,  he  did  not  think  much 
about  them.  Both  he  and  his  father  beUeved  that  the 
worst  perils  had  been  passed  in  the  long  run  down 
the  river  in  the  canoe.  Experience  had  shown  that  the 
route  chosen  was  not  Hkely  to  be  infested  by  hostile  or 
thieving  Indians  at  that  season  of  the  year.  Yet  this 
belief  did  not  decrease  the  boy's  natural  caution ;  and 
when  he  selected  material  for  his  fire  that  evening,  he 
was  careful  to  choose  the  dryest  pieces  of  wood  he 
could  find,  and  to  kindle  the  blaze  in  a  small  hollow, 
where  a  large  rock  would  conceal  its  glow  from  any  one 
passing  near  the  mouth  of  the  coulee. 

He  made  the  fire  with  flint  and  steel,  striking  the 
sparks  into  a  bit  of  dry  moss,  and  adding  to  the  glowing 
and  growing  speck  of  red  other  pieces  of  moss  and 
some  hair-hke  shavings  he  had  prepared  v/ith  his  hunt- 
ing-knife.    In  a  little  while  the  fire  was  going  well,  in 


OUTWITTING   THE   CROWS  33 

the  small  trench  he  had  scooped  out  for  it,  and  over  it 
he  placed  his  few  cooking  utensils. 

If  variety  is  considered,  it  was  not  much  of  a  supper 
that  Phil  Curtis  sat  down  to,  for  it  consisted  wholly  of 
cured  meat,  to  which  was  added  some  cakes  of  bread 
made  of  the  flour  of  ground  pinon  and  other  nuts,  while 
the  drink  was  water  from  the  sparkUng  rivulet.  But  a 
keen,  almost  ravenous  appetite  made  the  meal  more 
than  palatable. 

When  the  few  tins  had  been  washed  in  the  stream, 
and  Phil  had  changed  the  ponies  for  the  night,  and  was 
rolled  in  the  skins  that  served  him  as  blankets,  he  lay 
awake  but  a  short  time,  listening  to  the  "  ruh  —  ruh-h  " 
of  the  ponies  as  they  tore  at  the  bunch  grass,  the  low 
murmur  of  the  summer  breeze,  and  the  distant  cry  of 
some  night-prowling  animal;  then  he  fell  asleep,  with  his 
feet  toward  the  tiny  fire,  and  the  stars  shining  down 
upon  him  from  the  vast  spaces  of  the  sky. 

At  dawn  he  was  awake.  Again  the  ponies  were 
shifted,  that  they  might  feed  their  fill  in  the  early  morn- 
ing hours  ;  then  a  breakfast,  resembling  the  supper  of 
the  night  before,  was  prepared  and  eaten.  By  sunrise 
Phil  was  on  his  way  again,  following  the  trail  to  Green 
River. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  this  was  a  well-marked 
trail,  like  a  beaten  road.     In    many  places  paths  had 


34  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

been  cut  deeply  into  the  soil  by  the  passing  of  herds  of 
elk  and  deer.  But  for  the  most  part  there  was  no  track 
whatever.  Sometimes  there  were  miles  of  level  grass- 
land, where  travelling  was  easy  and  pleasant.  At  other 
times  there  were  high,  bald  ridges  to  cross,  difficult 
divides  to  scale ;  narrow  shelves  of  rock  overhanging 
precipitous  canon  walls  had  to  be  traversed,  where  a 
misstep  would  have  been  fatal  and  a  look  into  the  dizzy 
depths  would  have  made  the  head  reel.  The  so-called 
"  trail "  to  Green  River  was  in  truth  no  trail  at  all, 
except  that  certain  passes,  valleys,  gulches,  and  coulees 
opened  favorably  in  that  direction,  and  so  invited  travel. 

More  than  half  the  long  distance  had  been  gone  over 
before  there  was  cause  for  alarm.  Then  one  morning 
Phil  discovered  Indian  pony  tracks  on  the  margin  of  the 
stream  by  which  he  had  camped  through  the  night. 
Every  faculty  was  wide  awake  on  the  instant.  Those 
tracks  spelled  danger.  He  examined  them  carefully, 
and  followed  them  for  some  distance  down  the  stream. 
At  length  he  stopped,  holding  up  an  arrow  which  some 
careless  Indian  rider  had  dropped. 

''  Crows ! "  he  said,  as  he  examined  the  feathered 
shaft  and  noted  the  peculiarity  of  the  spiral  grooves  cut 
in  the  wood.  "  They're  bad  enough,  but  better  than 
Blackfeet.  They  were  here  yesterday,  for  the  tracks 
are  fresh  ;  and  of  course  they  were  here  before  I  came. 


OUTWITTING   THE    CROWS  35 

or  I  should  have  seen  them.  They've  gone  on  down 
the  river,  and  likely  they  won't  give  me  any  trouble." 

Knowing  now  what  he  had  to  guard  against,  Phil 
replaced  the  arrow  in  the  exact  position  in  which  he  had 
found  it.  Then,  for  an  Indian  eye  is  keen,  he  tried  to 
remove  every  evidence  of  his  visit  to  that  spot,  as  he 
beat  a  hasty  retreat.  He  could  not  conceal  the  fact  that 
his  ponies  had  been  at  the  little  river,  but  was  forced  to 
hope  that  as  the  Indian  ponies  had  been  there  also,  the 
signs  would  not  be  observed.  He  did  what  he  could  to 
obliterate  every  mark  of  his  camp ;  then  hastily  packed 
up,  and,  mounting  his  own  animal,  led  the  others  into 
the  stream. 

Instead  of  crossing  directly  to  the  opposite  bank, 
he  waded  the  ponies  up  the  stream  for  a  long  dis- 
tance, and  sought  the  other  shore  at  a  point  where 
the  character  of  the  surface  would  best  conceal  the 
hoof-marks.  Nevertheless,  he  was  so  uneasy  that  he 
set  out  at  as  rapid  a  pace  as  possible  when  he  had 
left  the  Httle  stream  behind. 

He  thought  it  likely  that  the  Indians  had  pitched 
camp  the  previous  evening  at  no  great  distance.  In 
that  case  it  was  more  than  possible  that  the  one  who 
had  dropped  the  arrow  would,  on  discovering  his  loss, 
retrace  his  way  to  find  it.  To  an  Indian  of  those 
days   an    arrow  was  a  valuable  possession.     It  repre- 


^6  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

sented  much  labor  and  care,  and  was  not  to  be  replaced 
easily. 

Phil  hoped,  though,  that  if  the  Indian  did  return 
to  search  for  his  lost  arrow,  he  would  be  contented 
with  finding  it.  If  he  did  not  look  closely,  and  par- 
ticularly if  he  did  not  advance  up  the  stream  to  the 
point  where  Phil  had  made  his  camp,  he  would  never 
know  that  laden  Cayuse  ponies  had  passed  that  way. 
But  if  he  made  the  discovery,  the  entire  band  of 
thieving  Crows  would  be  on  Phil's  trail  before  the 
day  was  done. 

In  view  of  this  dreaded  possibility,  it  was  now  the 
part  of  wisdom  for  the  young  trapper  to  push  for- 
ward as  rapidly  as  he  could ;  so  he  did  not  spare 
the  ponies,  but  hurried  them  on  hour  after  hour. 
When  noon  had  come  and  gone,  a  fact  which  his 
timepiece,  the  sun,  told  him,  and  still  there  were  no 
signs  of  pursuit,  he  began  to  breathe  more  freely ; 
yet  he  kept  right  on,  without  the  usual  halt  for  food 
and  rest. 

It  was  almost  mid  afternoon  when  he  made  the 
terrifying  discovery  that  his  carefully  concealed  trail 
had  been  picked  up  and  he  was  being  followed.  The 
first  hint  of  this  was  brought  by  the  whirring  wings 
of  a  startled  grouse.  He  had  for  some  time  been 
travelling  through  a  rugged  rocky  country,  where  the 


OUTWITTING  THE   CROWS  37 

hillsides  were  thickly  covered  with  aspens  and  other 
small  trees.  A  backward  view  for  any  considerable 
distance  was  thus  cut  off.  The  passage  of  the  ponies 
had  routed  a  grouse,  which  had  flown  backward  for 
a  short  way  along  the  trail  and  there  ahghted.  Now 
it  was  up  again  with  whirring  beat  of  wing,  when 
apparently  there  had  been  nothing  to  startle  it  this 
second  time. 

Phil  stopped  his  pony  in  the  trail  and  with  rifle 
held  in  readiness  looked  behind  him,  twisting  round 
in  the  saddle  to  do  so.  All  at  once  he  saw  some 
bushes  move.  He  even  thought  he  saw  the  sway- 
ing of  an  Indian  head  feather,  though  that  might 
have  been  the  effect  of  an  overwrought  imagination. 
He  heard  nothing  but  the  noise  of  the  grouse's  wings, 
and  he  saw  nothing  but  that  movement  in  the  bushes, 
though  he  sat  in  watchful  and  anxious  expectation 
for  more  than  a  minute. 

"  If  a  bear  or  some  other  animal  scared  that  bird, 
it  would  have  shown  itself  by  this  time,"  he  decided, 
when  he  heard  and  saw  nothing  further. 

So,  instead  of  going  on,  he  dismounted  quickly,  tied 
his  pony  to  an  aspen,  knowing  that  the  other  ponies 
would  remain  by  the  lead  animal,  and  climbing  to 
the  hillside  slipped  back  to  the  point  from  which  the 
grouse   had    been    flushed.      Having    by    a    long    and 


.8  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

careful  survey  made  sure  that  no  one  was  in  or  near 
the  trail,  he  ventured  into  it.  There  he  began  a 
search  which  led  him  for  some  distance  along  the 
back  track.  When  it  was  ended  he  knew  what  had 
scared  the  grouse  and  what  he  had  to  expect. 

"  The  Crow  who  dropped  that  arrow  came  back  for 
it,  as  I  feared  he  would,"  was  his  conclusion.  "  He 
saw  my  trail,  in  spite  of  the  work  I  did  to  hide  it. 
That  made  him  go  up  the  river  until  he  came  to  my 
camp.  There  he  found  that  loaded  ponies  had  passed. 
It  must  have  taken  him  some  time  to  find  the  tracks 
again,  after  I  left  the  river,  but  he  found  them.  Ever 
since  then  he  has  been  following  me.  I  have  been 
so  careful  that  he  could  not  tell  without  seeing  me 
whether  my  ponies  represented  an  Indian  party  or 
not.  He  had  to  make  sure,  and  it  took  him  all  this 
time  to  do  it.  Now  he  knows,  and  he'll  go  straight 
back  to  the  Crows  with  his  story.  He  is  on  foot, 
but  an  Indian  on  foot  can  sometimes  travel  to  beat 
a  horse.  By  morning  the  whole  band  will  be  after 
me;  and  as  my  ponies  have  heavy  loads  and  theirs 
probably  haven't  anything  to  carry  but  their  owners, 
it  will  be  a  wonder  if. they  can't  overtake  me." 

Phil's  face  was  troubled  as  he  went  back  to  his  pony 
and  rode  on  along  the  trail,  with  the  pack  animals 
following.     The  Crow  spy  had  seen  the  bales  of  furs, 


OUTWITTING   THE   CROWS  39 

and  had  discovered  that  they  had  but  a  single  defender, 
and  that  a  boy.  No  band  of  Crows  could  resist  such  a 
temptation.  They  would  endeavor  to  overtake  and  rob 
him,  perhaps  kill  him  ;  and  if  they  succeeded,  they  would 
dispose  of  the  furs  themselves  at  a  trading  post. 

Until  some  better  plan  came  to  him,  the  only  thing 
for  Phil  to  do  was  to  travel  straight  on  at  the  best  speed 
possible.  But  in  spite  of  all  he  could  do  to  hurry  them 
the  ponies  lagged,  for  they  had  gone  without  food  since 
morning  and  had  been  given  no  noon  rest.  Neverthe- 
less, the  alarmed  boy  urged  them  forward  as  rapidly  as 
he  could  until  near  sunset,  when,  coming  to  a  stream 
where  some  rich  grass  grew,  he  thought  it  the  part  of 
wisdom  to  stop  there  for  a  time,  cook  something  for 
himself,  and  let  the  ponies  graze. 

The  way  over  which  he  had  come  that  day  had  been 
of  such  a  character  that  he  could  not  hide  the  trail  the 
ponies  made,  so  he  had  not  tried  to  do  anything  of  the 
kind.  Now,  because  it  could  not  make  his  situation 
worse,  he  shot  a  deer  that  came  down  to  the  stream  to 
drink.  Such  portions  of  it  as  he  thought  he  could  use 
he  cut  away  ;  the  rest  of  it  he  rolled  into  the  stream. 
Of  this  venison  he  ate,  and  cooked  strips  of  it  to  take 
with  him  in  his  further  flight. 

When  the  moon  rose,  some  two  or  three  hours  later, 
he   crossed  the   stream  and  set  out  again,  shaping  his 


40  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

course  by  the  stars,  like  the  ancient  mariners.  The 
wiry  Uttle  ponies  were  so  much  refreshed  that  they 
travelled  well  now,  and  for  many  hours  Phil  kept  them 
going. 

As  morning  drew  on  he  went  into  camp  again.  The 
ponies  could  not  travel  forever  without  rest  and  food. 
Though  sure  that  the  Crows  would  follow  him,  he  did 
not  think  they  were  near,  so  ventured  to  catch  a  brief 
rest.  He  overslept,  and  the  sun  was  shining  brightly 
in  his  face  when  he  awoke.  He  leaped  to  his  feet  with 
a  nervous  start.  Then  he  stood  for  a  time  listening, 
and  after  that  walked  some  distance  along  the  backward 
trail.  The  morning  was  serene  and  beautiful,  the  sun- 
shine bright  and  warm.  Round  some  of  the  nearer 
mountain  peaks  wisps  of  clouds  floated  and  hung  like 
tattered  white  drapery.  Gophers  whistled  in  the  grass, 
and  birds  sang.  The  whole  mountain  landscape  was 
like  a  dream  of  peace. 

Yet,  back  there  somewhere,  just  where  he  could  only 
guess,  Phil  Curtis  knew  that  the  Crows  were  dogging 
his  trail,  with  a  never  failing  persistence.  Returning  to 
camp,  he  hurried  preparations  for  departure,  and  a  little 
later  was  again  jogging  on  as  fast  as  he  could  go. 

All  the  time,  as  he  had  done  through  all  the  hours  of 
the  previous  day,  he  was  searching  for  some  way  of 
escape.     His  judgment  told  him  that  in  a  straight-ahead 


OUTWITTING   THE    CROWS  41 

race  the  Crows  must  win.     But  how  to  fool  them,  how 
to  throw  them  off  the  trail,  puzzled  him. 

Assistance  came  from  an  unexpected  quarter  and  in 
an  unexpected  way.  It  was  almost  noon,  and  he  felt 
sure  the  Crows  were  now  not  far  behind  him.  The 
ponies  were  again  lagging,  and  plainly  needed  rest.  He 
was  riding  along  a  much-used  game  trail.  About  him 
were  many  fantastic  buttes  and  those  singular  forms  of 
time-worn  rock  which  men  in  later  times  have  named 
the  "  Hoodoos."  The  country  was  wild  and  broken, 
much  cut  by  small  canons,  gulches,  and  coulees,  and 
somewhat  timbered  in  places. 

As  Phil  passed  along  he  heard  loud  trampling  behind 
him,  and,  looking  back,  beheld  a  large  band  of  elk 
descending  the  trail.  His  quick  mind  saw  the  possibili- 
ties in  an  instant.  Drawing  his  pony  sharply  out  of  the 
trail  and  guiding  him  up  a  bare  rocky  slope,  where  his 
unshod  hoofs  made  no  impression,  with  the  other  ponies 
following  obediently,  he  succeeded  in  gaining  the  crest 
of  the  low  divide  before  the  elk  were  near  enough  to 
take  fright  at  his  presence. 

When  they  observed  the  ponies  and  the  rider,  though 
they  appeared  to  be  frightened,  the  well-worn  trail 
offered  such  attractions  that  they  dashed  straight  ahead 
along  it,  and  were  soon  lost  to  sight  on  the  lower 
slopes. 


42  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

**  That  wipes  out  the  pony  tracks,"  Phil  thought,  with 
intense  satisfaction.  "  Now  if  I  can  only  get  away  from 
here  without  making  another  trail  before  the  Crows 
come !  " 

He  looked  about,  with  critical,  anxious  eye.  Then, 
instead  of  returning  to  the  path  he  had  been  following, 
he  rode  down  the  slope  of  the  divide,  straight  away 
from  the  game  trail.  Choosing  the  barest  and  rockiest 
ground  he  could  find,  he  continued  in  this  way,  the 
pack  ponies  climbing  and  scrambling  after  him  like 
obedient  goats. 

Within  less  than  half  a  mile  he  descended  to  a 
stream,  where  the  shores  were  of  the  same  rocky 
character.  Into  this  he  rode,  and  followed  it  up  for 
nearly  a  mile,  keeping  the  ponies  all  the  while  in  the 
water.  As  he  thus  passed  along  he  watched  for  some 
point  where  he  could  take  to  the  shore  without  making 
a  visible  trail. 

Finally  he  came  to  a  side  stream,  or  tributary,  and 
this  he  followed  up  for  almost  a  mile  more.  He  was 
fearing  he  might  find  a  canon,  as  he  advanced,  and 
thus  be  forced  to  retrace  his  way ;  but  he  came,  in- 
stead, to  a  somewhat  level,  grassy  stretch,  which  was 
hemmed  in  by  timbered  hills.  There  was  a  fringe  of 
trees  along  the  stream  here,  and  those  that  clothed  the 
hills  came  well  down  into  the  valley. 


OUTWITTING  THE   CROWS  43 

Phil  Curtis  stopped  his  pony  and  looked  across  the 
grassy  margin  of  the  little  river,  through  the  trees,  and 
at  the  encircling  hills.  It  seemed  an  inviting  place,  if 
he  could  get  into  it  without  leaving  some  signs  to  betray 
the  fact  that  he  had  sought  it  for  shelter.  The  Crows 
would  come  up  this  stream  and  search  these  banks,  as 
they  would  ascend  and  search  every  stream  and  bank 
for  many  miles. 

''There's  a  little  pass  over  there  by  which  I  might 
get  out,  if  only  I  could  get  in,"  was  Phil's  thought. 

Then  native  ingenuity  came  to  his  aid.  His  face 
brightened  with  hope  and  determination,  when  he  had 
thought  out  his  plan.  He  slipped  from  the  saddle  into 
the  cold  water,  which  did  not  rise  above  his  knees. 
From  one  of  the  packs  he  took  some  of  the  largest 
furs  and  some  untanned  skins.  With  these  in  his 
arms  he  waded  to  the  shore,  leaving  the  ponies  stand- 
ing in  the  current. 

The  bottom  of  the  swift  stream  was  rocky.  The  low 
margin  was  rocky,  also,  for  a  few  yards  back  from  the 
water.  Cloud  bursts  and  rains  had  worn  and  washed 
away  the  earth  there.  Then  the  grass  began,  growing 
in  soft,  tufted  bunches.  Here  Phil  began  to  spread 
the  skins  he  had  brought  from  the  pack,  and  in  a  little 
while  he  had  stretched  a  carpet  of  skins  and  furs  across 
the  grass  and  out  through   the  trees,  until  it  reached 


44  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

another  rocky  area  which  ran  along  the  base  of  the 
hills  and  terminated  in  the  timbered  ground. 

It  required  several  visits  to  the  packs  to  get  enough 
furs  for  this,  and  likewise  much  watching  and  many- 
low  commands  to  keep  the  ponies  from  leaving  the 
water  before  he  had  completed  his  preparations. 
When  all  was  in  readiness,  he  took  the  halter  of 
the  lead  pony,  and  conducted  him  with  great  care  out 
of  the  water,  across  the  rocky  rim  of  the  river,  and  out 
upon  the  carpet  of  furs  and  skins.  The  others,  as  was 
their  wont,  followed  without  much  coaxing,  and  were 
led  by  the  clever  boy  into  the  shelter  of  the  trees  at 
some  distance  from  the  stream. 

When  they  were  safely  hidden  and  tethered,  Phil  ran 
back  to  the  little  river,  and  with  the  same  care  began 
to  remove  the  furs.  Walking  backward,  beginning 
at  the  stream,  he  gathered  them  up  one  by  one, 
straightening  up  the  bunch  grass  and  restoring  it  as 
nearly  as  he  could  to  its  normal  condition  after  each 
skin  was  removed. 

He  worked  rapidly,  but  neglected  nothing,  for  the 
slightest  oversight  might  lead  to  his  detection.  Within 
ten  minutes  after  sheltering  and  tethering  the  ponies, 
he  had  the  furs  also  hidden  under  cover  of  the  trees. 
Only  the  water  on  the  rocks,  showing  where  the  ponies 
had  emerged  from  the  stream,  remained  to  tell  of  their 


OUTWITTING  THE   CROWS  45 

passage,  and  the  hot  sun  would  remove  that  if  given 
time  enough. 

It  was  the  best  that  Phil  could  do.  The  Crows,  he 
was  sure,  would  follow  on  down  the  game  trail  and  look 
for  pony  tracks  below.  If  the  elk  continued  in  the 
trail  for  any  great  length  of  time,  the  Indians  would 
travel  a  considerable  distance  and  have  a  long  search 
before  they  could  discover  that  the  pony  tracks  had 
disappeared  altogether. 

Phil's  reasoning  told  him  that  after  they  had  made 
that  important  discovery  they  would  back  track  and 
endeavor  to  find  the  spot  where  the  ponies  had  left  the 
game  trail.  They  would  know  that  since  ponies  walk, 
and  cannot  fly,  hoof  prints  must  be  left  by  them  some- 
where. It  would  be  merely  a  question  of  covering  the 
ground  thoroughly.  They  would  follow  up  the  various 
trails,  and  search  the  banks  of  the  streams.  They  were 
indefatigable  in  such  matters,  and  would  not  give  up 

readily. 

Yet  Phil  was  sure  that  he  was  in  no  immediate 
danger  of  discovery.  Therefore,  as  the  ponies  were 
ravenously  hungry,  he  untethered  them  and  permitted 
them  to  feed  on  the  grass  which  grew  in  scattered 
tufts  beneath  the  trees.  They  had  satisfied  their  thirst 
while  wading  up  the  stream.  Phil  also  ate  and  sought 
some  rest  for  himself,  though  he  was  ever  on  the  alert 
and  kept  his  rifle  close  at  hand. 


46  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

One  thing  made  him  hope  for  a  considerable  respite. 
An  Indian  is  afraid  of  the  darkness  and  disUkes  to 
travel  at  night.  The  shadows  of  the  mountains  terrify 
him.  Night  gives  to  the  age-worn  rocks  the  appearance 
of  goblins  and  giants,  which  in  the  uncertain  Hght  some- 
times seem  to  move.  The  mind  of  a  savage  is  in  some 
respects  the  mind  of  a  child.  He  exaggerates  what  he 
does  not  see  clearly  and  fears  what  he  does  not  under- 
stand. And  to  him,  when  darkness  descends  on  the 
mountains  they  are  filled  with  mystery. 

For  this  reason  Phil  hoped  that  the  Crows  had  gone 
into  camp  at  the  close  of  the  previous  day  and  would 
again  give  over  the  pursuit  with  the  approach  of  night. 
This  was  but  a  hope,  however ;  he  could  not  be  at  all 
sure  of  it.  These  Indians  might  be  of  a  more  coura- 
geous mould,  or  their  greed  might  be  so  great  that  they 
had  hurried  on  in  spite  of  the  darkness  and  the  chance 
of  losing  the  trail  of  the  Cayuse  ponies. 

Phil  felt  a  great  sense  of  relief  when  the  day  ended 
and  he  had  seen  nothing  to  cause  apprehension.  His 
ponies  were  somewhat  rested  and  were  no  longer 
hungry.  He  had  also  recovered  in  some  degree  from 
his  fatigue.  Yet  he  would  not  for  an  instant  delude 
himself  into  the  beUef  that  the  Crows  had  given  up  the 
chase.  He  knew  those  thieving  Indians  too  well  for 
that. 


OUTWITTING   THE   CROWS  47 

When  morning  came,  after  an  anxious  and  somewhat 
wakeful  night,  he  dared  not  take  the  ponies  down  to 
the  stream  to  let  them  drink,  but  he  permitted  them  to 
feed  on  the  grass  under  the  trees.  As  the  morning 
advanced  he  tethered  them  and  cut  up  a  skin  into  nose 
stalls,  which  he  hoped  would  keep  them  from  neighing 
if  any  of  the  Crow  ponies  came  near.  Then,  with  rifle 
in  hand,  he  sat  close  by  the  edge  of  the  timber,  where 
he  could  see  the  margin  of  the  stream  without  being 
seen  himself,  and  began  a  careful  watch. 

When  the  morning  had  passed  and  noon  came,  any 
boy  whose  knowledge  of  Indians  was  not  so  great 
would  have  been  tempted  to  leave  the  security  of  the 
timber  and  venture  back  into  the  trail.  But  Phil  Curtis 
maintained  his  position  hour  after  hour.  From  the 
river  his  eyes  vv^andered  constantly  to  the  high  ledges 
and  cliffs  that  encircled  the  tiny  valley.  If  any  Indians 
were  stealing  along  there,  it  was  more  than  likely  that 
sooner  or  later  they  would  rout  out  some  animal  or 
startle  some  bird,  and  so  give  notice  of  their  presence  to 
the  watcher  below.  But  not  a  thing  moved  ;  even  the 
wind  seemed  to  sleep.  Sleepy  the  ponies  certainly 
were,  some  of  them  standing  with  eyes  closed,  others 
lying  down. 

All  at  once  a  shght  splash  in  the  stream  caused  Phil's 
nerves  to  quiver  like  a  taut  bowstring  when  a  hand  is 


48  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

laid  on  it  rudely.  He  knew  that  light  splash  might  have 
been  made  by  a  leaping  fish,  but  he  feared  an  Indian. 
Then,  as  he  looked  through  the  screening  foliage,  he 
saw  a  Crow  step  out  from  behind  a  rock  and  move 
softly  up  the  stream.  He  was  in  hunting-dress,  with 
head  feathers,  and  armed  with  bow  and  arrows. 

As  he  waded  against  the  current,  moving  with  extreme 
caution,  he  swept  the  shore  on  each  side  of  the  stream 
with  his  burning  black  eyes.  He  looked  out  into  the 
tiny  valley,  -  at  the  timber  and  at  the  encircUng  hills. 
He  examined  the  grass.  He  stopped  !  Phil's  heart 
went  into  his  mouth  and  the  clutch  on  his  rifle  tightened. 
The  Indian  seemed  to  be  only  listening,  though  his 
eyes  were  scanning  the  grass  near  the  margin  of  the 
stream. 

Phil  glanced  anxiously  at  the  ponies.  If  they  made 
a  sound  now,  if  one  so  much  as  stamped  a  hoof  to  beat 
away  a  fly,  all  would  be  lost.  But  they  stood  in  dumb 
silence,  sleepy-eyed,  with  no  knowledge  that  any  human 
being  besides  Phil  was  near.  After  a  careful  survey  of 
the  timber  and  the  shores,  the  Crow  waded  on  slowly 
and  soon  disappeared  up  the  stream. 

The  situation  had  been  so  perilous  and  the  reaction 
was  so  great  that  when  the  Indian  had  passed  on  out  of 
sight  Phil  realized  that  he  was  covered  with  perspira- 
tion and  shaking  Uke  a  leaf.     For  a  long  time  he  did 


OUTWITTING  THE   CROWS  49 

not  venture  to  move,  fearing  that  the  Crow  might  come 
back  down  the  stream ;  he  also  feared  lest  his  own 
motions  should  arouse  the  ponies  and  make  them  rest- 
less. So  he  sat  perfectly  still,  recovering  little  by  little 
from  his  state  of  extreme  nervousness. 

When  so  long  a  time  had  elapsed  that  he  was  per- 
fectly sure  the  Crow  would  not  return  he  rose  from 
his  cramped  position  and  walked  about  under  the 
trees.  His  mind  was  busy  with  plans  for  leaving  the 
sheltering  valley.  Some  other  Crow  might  go  up  or 
down  the  stream,  but  Phil  did  not  think  it  likely,  nor 
did  he  believe  the  one  who  had  ascended  would  return 
now  by  that  way.  He  had  searched  the  stream  and 
its  banks  thoroughly,  and  had  discovered  no  pony 
tracks,  and  it  was  not  probable  that  he  would  cover 
the  same  course  again. 

Phil's  sense  of  security  increased  greatly  when  night 
came.  The  ponies  were  up  and  were  anxious  for  water, 
of  which  they  had  been  long  deprived.  It  must  have 
seemed  strange  to  them  that  they  were  kept  back 
from  it  when  it  was  so  near.  Phil  held  them  in  re- 
straint, however,  until  the  night  was  well  advanced. 
Then  he  formed  one  of  the  skins  into  a  sort  of  water 
bottle  and  attempted  to  bring  enough  water  in  that 
to  satisfy  them  in  a  measure.  He  had  to  work  very 
carefully,  and  the  skin  bottle  was  a  poor  article  indeed ; 


50  "         A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

but  by  many  stealthy  visits  to  the  stream  he  got  some 
water  to  them,  and  with  that  they  had  to  be  content. 

For  two  whole  days  after  he  had  seen  the  Crow  pass 
up  the  stream  Phil  Curtis  remained  in  hiding  in  the  tim- 
ber with  the  Cayuse  ponies.  In  that  time  he  did  what 
he  could  to  relieve  their  thirst,  though  he  only  ventured 
down  to  the  stream  in  the  darkness.  It  was  a  long 
and  trying  wait  for  Phil,  as  well  as  for  the  ponies. 
Not  once  in  all  that  time  did  he  start  a  fire  to  cook  any- 
thing ;  for  if  the  Crows  were  still  near,  their  watchful 
eyes  might  see  the  smoke  by  day  or  the  shine  of  the 
fire  by  night. 

Darkness  and  silence  had  fallen  over  the  land  when 
at  last  he  decided  to  try  to  leave  his  hiding-place. 
That  afternoon  he  had  cUmbed  into  one  of  the  tallest 
of  the  trees,  where,  screened  by  the  boughs  and  the 
leaves,  he  had  made  what  survey  of  the  surrounding 
region  he  could.  It  seemed  to  him  that  the  Crows 
must  have  departed  from  the  vicinity.  Their  supersti- 
tions, if  nothing  else,  would  probably  have  led  them 
to  that,  he  reasoned.  If  pack  ponies  can  disappear 
without  leaving  hoof  print  or  trail  of  any  kind,  there 
must  be  something  uncanny  and  unaccountable  about 
them;  the  thing  would  be  ''bad  medicine"  to  the 
Indian  mind,  and  for  that  reason  the  pursuit  would  be 
abandoned. 


OUTWITTING   THE    CROWS  51 

So  Phil  conducted  his  Httle  pack  train  from  the 
valley  to  the  stream,  into  which  the  ponies  plunged 
eagerly,  thrusting  their  noses  deep  into  the  cool  water. 
Then,  wading  himself,  Phil  led  them  slowly  and  cau- 
tiously down  the  stream,  out  to  the  larger  stream,  and 
on  down  to  the  trail.  No  Crows  were  encountered; 
nothing  barred  his  way. 

The  trail  was  open,  so  far  as  he  could  tell.  An  hour 
later  he  was  almost  sure  he  had  outwitted  his  pursuers. 
By  morning  he  knew  it ;  and  after  a  breakfast  and  a 
rest  he  pushed  straight  ahead  at  top  speed  for  Green 
River. 


CHAPTER    IV 
AT   GREEN   RIVER 

WHEN  Phil  Curtis  arrived  at  the  great  trappers' 
and  traders'  rendezvous  on  Green  River,  he 
was  greeted  by  a  scene  that  excited  his  interest  and 
stirred  his  imagination.  To  the  youth  emerging  from 
the  great  mountain  wilderness  it  was  like  being  trans- 
ported into  a  fairyland,  where  everything  was  bright 
and  enjoyable,  lively  and  gay. 

Two  hundred  fur  traders  were  there,  and  two  thou- 
sand Indians,  representing  tribes  scattered  all  over  the 
mountain  country  from  the  plains  to  the  Pacific  coast, 
together  with  scores  and  even  hundreds  of  white 
trappers.  The  Indians  were  camped  in  villages,  the 
white  trappers  slept  in  the  open  or  in  rudely  con- 
structed huts,  while  the  traders  were  housed  in  cabins 
of  logs  and  in  the  trading  post.  A  babel  of  sound 
filled  the  air. 

In  spite  of  the  confusion,  the  coming  and  going,  the 
noise  of  trafific,  the  quarrelling  and  carousing,  the  sing- 
ing and  yelling,  the  advent  of  Phil  Curtis  with  his  pony 

52 


AT   GREEN    RIVER  53 

loads  of  the  choicest  furs  to  be  found  in  the  mountains 
did  not  pass  unnoticed.  As  he  threaded  his  way 
among  the  Indian  lodges  and  the  trappers'  camps, 
with  the  laden  ponies  following,  he  sat  erect,  with 
conscious  pride,  in  the  rude  Cayuse  saddle,  and  formed 
a  striking  picture  in  the  ornamented  suit  of  deerskin 
given  him  by  Neekomy. 

In  a  little  while  traders  were  crowding  about  him, 
eager  to  barter  for  his  furs.  Dismounting,  he  opened 
some  of  the  packs  and  displayed  the  pelts,  spreading 
them  out  on  the  ground.  He  dilated  on  their  good 
qualities,  asked  the  traders  to  feel  of  them  and  see  how 
soft  and  silky  they  were,  and  how  well  cured  and 
stretched.  He  did  not  want  articles  in  barter,  he  said, 
—  no  clothing  nor  ornaments,  no  cloth,  guns,  axes  nor 
trinkets,  only  a  little  powder  and  ball ;  he  desired  to 
agree  with  some  one  upon  the  value  that  was  to  be 
affixed  to  the  furs,  and  receive  in  payment  for  them 
an  order  for  money  on  the  Hudson  Bay  Company's 
agent,  McLoughlin,  at  Vancouver. 

A  Hudson  Bay  Company's  representative  stepped 
out  of  the  crowd  and  announced  his  readiness  to  comply 
with  this  request. 

Phil  spent  several  hours  with  this  agent  of  the  Com- 
pany, for  the  furs  were  many  and  valuable.  The  boy 
was  a  shrewd,  keen  trader,  and  was  stimulated  by  the 


54  A   COURIER   OF    EMPIRE 

knowledge  that  his  father  expected  him  to  dispose  of 
the  skins  to  the  best  advantage.  The  Hudson  Bay  man, 
a  canny  Scot,  was  equally  anxious  to  get  them  at  the 
lowest  price,  and  so  please  his  employers.  Indian 
methods  were  employed,  a  fur  at  a  time  being  produced, 
haggled  over,  Phil  praising  it  and  displaying  its  good 
points,  the  trader  pointing  out  with  unfaiHng  accuracy 
its  defects,  until  finally  a  price  was  agreed  on,  a  memo- 
randum made,  and  the  fur  was  added  to  the  pile  that 
had  been  accepted. 

The  beaver  skin  was  the  unit  of  value.  Two  marten 
or  two  otter  skins  were  worth  five  beaver  skins,  one 
beaver  skin  was  worth  those  of  two  white  foxes ;  and 
for  the  skins  of  bears,  deer,  mink,  and  of  all  other  ani- 
mals the  value  was  fixed  by  their  worth  in  beaver  skins. 

Though  Phil  had  stipulated  that  he  must  have  an 
order  for  currency  on  the  Hudson  Bay  factor  at  Van- 
couver, the  Indians  and  most  of  the  trappers  disposed 
of  their  furs  in  barter.  Money  they  could  not  use ;  but 
they  could  use  knives,  guns,  ammunition,  traps,  articles  of 
clothing,  and  hundreds  of  other  things,  including  much 
trumpery  in  the  way  of  cheap  ornament.  In  this  sort 
of  barter,  one  beaver  skin  would  buy  a  red  handkerchief 
or  a  hunting-knife,  two  would  purchase  an  axe,  while  a 
rifle,  according  to  its  make,  style,  and  workmanship,  was 
valued  at  from  ten  to  thirty  or  more. 


|ND,Ai\S    an:    trappers    had   gathered   A30UT  THEM/' 


AT   GREEN    RIVER  55 

Before  Phil  had  concluded  his  trafficking  with  the 
Hudson  Bay  representative,  many  Indians  and  trappers 
had  gathered  about  them  and  the  piles  of  furs,  looking 
on  curiously,  commenting,  laughing,  or  asking  questions. 
Suddenly  he  heard  a  voice  and  a  pronunciation  that 
struck  him  strangely,  and  looking  round  he  beheld  Tom 
McKay,  an  old  trapper  friend  of  his  father. 

*'  Hey,  lad  !  "  said  McKay,  pushing  forward  out  of  the 
crowd,  with  extended  right  hand.  "  To  see  ye  lookin' 
so  hale  an'  hearty  an'  han'some  tickles  me  as  much  as 
if  I'd  run  a  splinter  in  my  foot !  " 

McKay  was  angular  and  sharp-featured,  with  peering 
bright  eyes.     His  clothing  was  soiled  buckskin.     In  a 
belt  about  his  waist  he  carried  a  knife  and  tomahawk ; 
his  left  hand  held  his  long  rifle.     And  it  was  a  wonder- 
ful rifle !     The  long  curved  stock,  which  extended  the 
whole  length  of  the  gun,  was  studded  at  the  breech  with 
brass  nails  set  in  fanciful  patterns.     The  breech  held 
also  a  metal  case  for  the  greased  patching  which  went 
over  the  bullets;    and  breech  and  stock  were  colored 
here  and  there,  in  the  Indian  fashion,  with  streaks  of 
red  ochre.     Tom  McKay  was  noted  as  a  marvellous  shot 
with  that  long  rifle.     ''  At  one  hundred  paces  he  could 
drive  a  dozen  balls  through  a  Spanish  dollar  or  knock 
off  a  duck's  head  at  one  hundred  and  twenty  yards." 
He  was  a  Hudson  Bay  man,  —  that  is,  he  acknowledged 


56  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

a  sort  of  allegiance  to  the  factor  of  the  Hudson  Bay 
Company  at  Fort  Vancouver;  and  he  now  looked 
keenly  at  the  agent  with  whom  Phil  had  been  dickering, 
as  if  to  question  whether  the  trader  had  been  trying  to 
overreach  the  son  of  his  old  friend. 

Phil  had  leaped  to  his  feet  when  he  beheld  McKay, 
and  clasped  the  hand  of  the  veteran  trapper  and  moun- 
tain man  with  much  warmth  of  feeling. 

Having  received  his  order  for  payment  on  the  factor 
at  Vancouver,  Phil  walked  joyously  away  with  McKay. 

*'Lad,  I'm  here  with  Jo  Meek,"  said  the  latter,  as 
they  walked  on.  ''  Some  Injuns  are  here,  too,  from  the 
Oregon  country  —  Nez  Perces  and  Cayuses  and  other 
ruck  of  that  kind.     How's  the  father  ?  " 

**  He  isn't  well,"  said  Phil,  with  a  shade  of  sadness. 
Then  he  proceeded  to  tell  why  he  had  come  on  to  the 
trading  rendezvous  alone,  leaving  his  father  with  the 
Cayuse  band  in  the  mountains. 

''  That's  all  right,"  said  McKay,  almost  as  if  the  infor- 
mation pleased  him.  '*  'Twill  take  more  than  a  bit  of 
mountain  fever  to  knock  out  a  man  Uke  your  father. 
We're  all  going  down  to  the  Columby,  —  Jo  Meek,  and 
myself,  and  the  Injuns,  and  some  other  trappers ;  but 
he'll  be  there,  I  don't  doubt,  before  we  will.  You  must 
go  with  our  party." 

"  I  shall  be  glad  to ;  and  I'm  glad  to  know  there  are 


AT   GREEN    RIVER  57 

some  Cayuses  here,"  was  Phil's  answer.  **  I'm  a  Cayuse 
myself  now !  " 

McKay  stopped  and  looked  at  him. 

''Just  how.?"  he  said.  "I  don't  see  any  paint  and 
feathers.  You  look  a  good  deal  like  a  white  lad  to  me. 
Injuns  are  all  right;  Jo  Meek's  got  an  Injun  wife,  and 
a  good  many  of  the  other  trappers  the  same ;  but  for 
myself,  I  prefer  to  have  such  a  friend  as  you,  or  your 
father,  white." 

Then  Phil  told  of  his  adoption  into  the  Indian  band 
of  Tilskit,  and  of  the  accident  and  rescue  which  had 
led  to  his  becoming  Timuitti's  brother,  to  all  of  which 
Tom  McKay  listened  with  grave  attention. 

"  That's  heap  good,  as  the  Injuns  say,"  he  commented. 
**  Those  Cayuses  are  the  greatest  pony  Injuns  in  Ore- 
gon ;  it  won't  do  you  any  harm  to  be  a  Cayuse,  and 
some  time  it  may  help.  We'll  go  over  to  the  Cayuse 
lodges,  where  I'll  introduce  you  and  tell  this  story,  and 
we'll  have  a  talk  with  your  new  relations.  Come  along  ; 
Jo  Meek  is  over  there." 


CHAPTER   V 

MARCUS   WHITMAN 

N  that  talk  Phil  Curtis  heard  for  the  first  time  the 
name  of  Marcus  Whitman.  These  Cayuses  and 
Nez  Perces,  he  discovered,  had  journeyed  all  the  way 
from  the  Columbia  to  Green  River  to  meet  a  man 
named  Marcus  Whitman,  who  was  coming  to  tell  them 
all  about  the  White  Man's  Book. 

When  it  was  reported  that  Whitman  and  his  party 
were  near,  and  would  soon  reach  the  rendezvous,  the 
Indian  delegation  from  the  Columbia  made  ready  to 
greet  him  in  all  the  glory  of  their  holiday  attire.  Their 
beautiful  spotted  ponies  were  brought  out  and  decked 
with  paint  and  feathers,  dyed  horsetail  ornaments  and 
bits  of  gay  cloth.  The  Indians  themselves  were  bar- 
baric in  their  splendor. 

Phil  accompanied  the  Cayuses  and  Nez  Perces,  as  did 
Tom  McKay,  Jo  Meek,  and  many  trappers,  as  well  as 
representatives  of  the  Green  River  fur  traders,  when 
they  rode  out  in  their  fluttering  finery  to  meet  the  great 
''  Boston." 

58 


MARCUS   WHITMAN  59 

All  white  men  from  the  states  were  "  Bostons  "  to  the 
Indians  of  the  Columbia.  The  Columbia  River  had 
been  explored  and  named  by  a  Boston  sea  captain,  and 
the  early  traders  were  largely  from  Boston.  The  lan- 
guage used  by  these  Indians  in  their  traffic  with  the 
whites  was  a  jargon  of  Indian  words  and  phrases  mixed 
with  English  words  and  corruptions  of  words,  in  which 
"  Boston  "  figured  prominently. 

When  Whitman  and  his  party  came  in  sight,  it  was 
seen  to  be  but  a  small  company,  creeping  along  with  a 
rickety  wagon  which  contained  the  camping  outfit  and 
provisions.  Three  men  and  two  Nez  Perce  boys  were 
walking  in  the  dust  of  the  trail,  driving  some  cattle  and 
the  horses  that  drew  the  wagon.  High  on  two  tired 
horses  rode  two  women.  Behind  all  came  a  band  of 
trappers  with  whom  Whitman  had  journeyed  from  the 
Platte  River. 

A  faint  memory  of  his  mother  stirred  when  Phil 
beheld  the  clear,  white  complexion  of  Narcissa  Whit- 
man and  the  delicate,  refined  beauty  of  Eliza  Spalding. 
The  two  women  were  brides,  and  this  was  their  wed- 
ding trip —  a  trying  journey  across  the  continent  over 
the  hot  plains  where,  roamed  the  w^arhke  Sioux,  Chey- 
ennes,  and  Pawnees,  and  on  and  on,  until  now  they  had 
crossed  the  terrible  mountains,  the  first  white  women  to 
surmount  the  barrier  of  the  great  Rockies. 


6o  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

The  Indians  were  astonished  when  they  saw  those 
two  women.  Narcissa's  bright  hair  seemed  to  them  to 
be  of  spun  gold.  They  gazed  at  her  as  if  she  were  a 
spirit  descended  from  the  skies.  Then  some  of  them 
began  to  say  that  she  must  certainly  be  ill,  she  looked 
so  very  white  !  No  one  could  be  so  white,  they  thought, 
and  be  in  good  health.  Yet  Narcissa  Whitman's  health 
was  of  the  best,  and  in  spite  of  her  weariness  her  spirits 
were  bounding  with  enthusiasm. 

Whitman  and  his  missionary  companion  presented 
quite  a  striking  contrast  to  the  rough  mountain  men 
and  trappers  with  their  long  hair  and  greasy  buckskins 
with  whom  Phil  was  so  well  acquainted.  Whitman, 
young,  ruddy,  blue-eyed,  was  arrayed  in  a  suit  of  dusty 
black.  Spalding,  tall  and  slender,  was  also  clothed  in 
black. 

The  Indians  yelled  their  delight  and  pranced  their 
ponies  in  welcome.  The  chiefs  and  head  men,  the 
leading  trappers  and  the  representatives  of  the  traders, 
moved  forward  to  greet  Whitman  and  his  companions. 
The  Nez  Perce  boys  who  were  driving  some  of  Whit- 
man's cows  forgot  their  charges  and  rushed  to  greet 
their  relatives  from  the  Columbia. 

Narcissa  Whitman  and  Eliza  Spalding  looked  on 
with  astonishment  and  perhaps  with  a  feeling  of  trepi- 
dation when  they  saw  those  prancing  spotted  ponies  and 


MARCUS   WHITMAN  6i 

the  flying  feathers  and  ornaments  of  the  Indians,  and 
heard  the  yells  of  the  half-wild  assembly.  But  they 
preserved  an  outward  coolness  and  gave  kindly  greeting 
to  all  who  approached  them. 

That  afternoon  Phil  talked  with  Tom  McKay  about 
the  East,  from  which  Whitman's  party  had  come,  and 
about  the  work  which  Whitman  intended  to  do  on  the 
Columbia. 

**  I  can't  give  you  any  too  many  p'ints,"  said  McKay, 
as  he  sat  with  Phil  and  wrought  a  pair  of  moccasins, 
"because  I  don't  know  any  too  much  about  it  myself. 
All  I  know  is  that  these  people  are  what  they  call  mis- 
sionaries, and  are  goin'  out  into  the  Oregon  country  to 
preach  to  the  Injuns  and  to  start  what  they  call  mission 
schools.  The  Methydists  started  a  mission  school 
'mong  the  Nez  Perces  on  the  Columby  three  years  ago  ; 
you  may've  heard  of  it.  'Twas  started  by  two  brothers, 
Jason  and  David  Lee,  who  came  out  to  the  mouth  of 
the  Columby  with  ol'  Nathan'el  Wyeth,  the  Boston  fur 
trader.  It  done  a  heap  of  good,  I'm  told,  and  is  runnin' 
yit." 

"  Could  a  white  boy  study  in  their  schools  ? "  Phil 
asked,  after  a  time  of  thought. 

"  Why,  lad,  I  s'pose  he  might,  if  they  was  willin' 
and  he  wanted  to." 

That   night   in    the   trapper's    hut,    listening   to  the 


62  A    COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

heavy  breathing  of  Tom  McKay  and  Jo  Meek,  Phil 
lay  a  long  time  thinking  of  this.  Though  all  the  lore 
of  the  trapper  and  mountain  man  was  at  his  fingers* 
ends,  and  even  though  he  could  converse  with  half  the 
tribes  of  the  mountain  and  coast  Indians  in  their  own 
tongues,  he  was  marvellously  ignorant  of  the  kind  of 
knowledge  which  is  the  peculiar  possession  of  the  white 
man.  He  was  conscious  of  his  ignorance,  too,  though 
he  did  not  realize  how  deep  it  was. 

Phil  had  been  born  at  Independence,  on  the  Missouri 
River.  It  was  then  but  a  trapping  and  trading  post ; 
yet  his  mother  had  lived  there.  She  had  died  when  he 
was  a  small  boy,  and  he  did  not  remember  her  very 
well.  From  Independence,  at  a  later  period,  he  had 
been  brought  to  a  more  Western  trading  post,  where  he 
had  lived  a  long  time  with  the  trader's  family.  He 
recalled  other  homes  he  had  dwelt  in ;  but  all  of 
them  were  traders'  or  trappers'  homes,  or  Indian  lodges. 
Much  of  the  time,  since  he  had  grown  old  and  strong 
enough,  had  been  spent  with  his  father  on  the  trapping 
grounds  or  on  long,  perilous  journeys. 

With  the  dawn  Phil  Curtis  was  out.  Many  of  the 
Indians  and  trappers  were  astir.  Smoke  from  break- 
fast fires  was  rising  in  the  clear  morning  air.  One  of 
the  largest  and  best  of  the  Cayuse  lodges  had  been  set 
apart  for  the  missionaries.      After  a  time,  seeing  smoke 


MARCUS   WHITMAN  6$ 

rise  from  it,  Phil  walked  toward  it,  impelled  by  a  desire 
to  have  a  talk  with  Marcus  Whitman.  Some  Indians 
were  lounging  about  the  entrance,  among  them  a  few 
squaws  who  were  trying  to  satisfy  their  curiosity  by 
staring  in  now  and  then  in  the  hope  of  seeing  the 
strange  white  women. 

As  Phil  Curtis  approached  the  lodge,  Narcissa  Whit- 
man came  to  the  entrance,  and,  observing  him,  invited 
him  in. 

"Have  a  seat,"  said  Whitman,  rising  and  offering 
him  an  apology  for  a  stool.  ''  I  think  I  saw  you  with 
the  trappers  who  came  out  to  meet  us  yesterday." 

"  And  I'll  take  your  cap,"  said  Narcissa,  looking  with 
admiration  at  Phil's  embroidered  and  ornamented  suit 
of  buckskin. 

"  I've  been  told  you're  going  down  to  the  Columbia," 
said  Phil,  feeling  awkward  as  he  gave  his  cap  to  Nar- 
cissa and  took  the  stool.  ''I'm  going  that  way  myself, 
with  Tom  McKay,  Jo  Meek,  and  some  others." 

"Are  you  acquainted  with  the  Oregon  country.''" 
said  Whitman,  interested  at  once. 

"Well  acquainted  with  it,"  Phil  answered.  "My 
father  is  on  his  way  there  now ;  I've  been  here  selling 
furs,  and  I  shall  follow  him,  going  by  the  regular  trail. 
It's  the  trail  you  are  to  go  by,  I've  heard." 

Instantly  Whitman  and  Spalding  began  to  question 


64  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

him  concerning  the  Oregon  country.  They  wanted  to 
know  just  what  its  nature  was  and  all  about  the  Indians 
who  inhabited  it. 

Phil's  knowledge  was  very  full  on  those  points,  he 
was  glad  to  know.  Mrs.  Whitman  and  Mrs.  Spalding 
took  part  in  this  catechising. 

''  See  here,"  said  Whitman,  suddenly,  "  you're  just  the 
one  we  want  to  go  with  us  ;  you  know  more  about  that 
country  and  those  Indians  than  any  one  I've  seen  yet." 

'*  He's  more  willing  to  tell,  anyway,"  said  Narcissa, 
brightly. 

Phil  flushed  with  pleasure. 

"  I've  been  thinking  that  maybe  I'd  like  to  go  into 
your  mission  school,  when  you  start  it,  to  study  books, 
you  know,  and  to  learn  about  the  states,  and  the  way 
white  people  do.  Though  I'm  white,  I  don't  know 
many  of  the  things  white  people  know,  I'm  afraid ; 
what  I  know  is  mostly  the  things  that  Indians  learn, 
and  trappers." 

"  My  dear  boy,"  said  Narcissa,  her  face  beaming,  "  I 
shall  be  only  too  glad  to  teach  you  whatever  I  can.  It 
will  be  a  real  pleasure  to  me." 

Eliza  Spalding  said  the  same. 

"  I  heard  some  queer  stories,  from  the  Cayuses  and 
Nez  Perces,  as  to  why  you  came,"  said  Phil,  after  he 
had  thanked  them. 


MARCUS  WHITMAN  65 

"  It's  a  wonderful  story,"  Marcus  Whitman  declared, 
"a  perfectly  wonderful  story.  The  thing  is  almost 
unbelievable,  yet  it's  true.  Those  Indians  sent  a  delega- 
tion of  four  chiefs  all  the  way  from  Oregon  to  the  city 
of  St.  Louis  in  search  of  information  concerning  the 
Bible,  of  which  they  had  heard.  Catlin,  the  artist, 
met  two  of  the  chiefs  on  the  Missouri  River,  while  they 
were  on  their  return,  travelled  with  them  for  a  long 
distance,  and  made  pictures  of  them.  Only  two  of 
them  started  back  for  the  Columbia,  for  two  of  them 
died  in  St.  Louis  the  winter  after  their  arrival  there. 
Of  the  two  who  started  on  the  return  trip,  only  one 
lived  to  reach  home.  And  he  arrived  without  any 
white  man  with  him  to  tell  his  people  the  story  of  the 
White  Man's  Book,  as  they  called  it. 

"The  story  of  that  journey  of  the  Cayuse  Indians  to 
St.  Louis  in  search  of  some  one  who  could  tell  their 
people  all  about  the  Bible  was  published.  It  stirred 
us,  for  it  was  hke  that  call  which  Paul  heard.  *  Come 
over  into  Macedonia  and  help  us  ! '  We  answered  the 
call,  and  we  are  here." 

Marcus  Whitman's  face  was  shining  as  he  left  off 
speaking.  His  enthusiasm  was  so  great  and  so  infec- 
tious that  all  felt  it. 

''  And  you  must  go  with  us !  "  said  Narcissa  Whit- 
man.    "This  meeting  with  you  here  is  certainly  provi- 


66  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

dential.  You  know  the  Indian  languages,  of  which  we 
are  still  ignorant.  While  we  teach  you,  you  can  teach 
us.     Oh,  you  must  go  !  " 

"  Anything  troublin'  you,  lad  } "  said  Tom  McKay, 
meeting  Phil  near  the  lodge  a  Httle  later. 

"  No,"  Phil  answered. 

"  Well,  I  thought  you  seemed  a  bit  excited." 

"  Perhaps  I  am,"  said  Phil.  ''  I've  had  a  talk  with 
Mr.  Whitman  and  the  other  members  of  his  party,  and 
I'm  going  down  the  trail  with  them  to  the  Columbia." 

"We're  all  goin'  down  that  trail  to  the  Columby,  and 
goin'  when  they  go,  Hkely." 

*'  Yes,  but  I'm  to  help  them  in  their  talks  with  the 
Indians,  and  they're  to  take  me  into  their  mission 
school,  where  I'm  to  learn  things,  —  learn  about  books, 
get  an  education,  if  father  is  willing." 

McKay  looked  at  his  young  friend  earnestly. 

"  Lad,  I  think  ye're  right !  Education  is  a  great 
thing.  I  haven't  got  any  too  much  of  it  myself,  but 
I've  got  enough  to  know  that.  Never  fear  but  your 
father   will   see   it   as   you   do.      He'll   be   more   than 

willin'." 

Whitman  and  his  party  remained  at  Green  River 
two  weeks  to  rest.  During  that  time  the  Columbia 
River  Indians  did  everything  possible  to  demonstrate 
their  delight  and  good-will.     They  sent  hunting  parties 


MARCUS    WHITMAN  67 

into  the  mountains,  and  fishing  parties  to  the  river, 
and  kept  Whitman's  table  loaded  with  game  and 
fish.  Finally  they  induced  the  other  Indians  at  the 
trading  rendezvous  to  join  them  in  a  great  war  tourna- 
ment, in  which  all  appeared  in  fluttering  feathers  and 
wonderful  head-dresses,  their  bodies  daubed  with  paint, 
executing  many  Indian  evolutions  on  their  beautiful 
ponies.  The  tournament  was  concluded  with  a  grand 
charge  of  six  hundred  armed  and  mounted  braves  in  all 
the  glory  of  war-paint,  yelHng  as  only  Indians  can  yell. 
It  was  certainly  a  realistic  demonstration — almost  too 
realistic  for  the  mental  comfort  of  Mrs.  Whitman  and 
Mrs.  Spalding,  who  showed  some  nervousness  when 
this  yelling  line  of  painted  warriors  came  charging 
toward   them. 

When  Whitman  started  on  toward  the  Columbia,  he 
was  accompanied  by  a  body  of  trappers  led  by  Tom 
McKay  and  Jo  Meek,  and  including  Phil  Curtis.  Phil 
had  the  fur  trader's  order  on  the  Vancouver  factor 
stowed  snugly  away  in  an  inner  pocket  of  his  hunting- 
shirt.  Mounted  on  the  handsomest  of  the  Cayuse 
ponies, —he  had  sold  the  others  he  brought  with  him 
from  Tilskit's  village, —he  rode  at  the  side  of  Tom 
McKay  near  the  head  of  the  trapper  column,  and  his 
heart  was  light. 

At  Fort    Hall  the  Hudson    Bay  factor  tried  to  dis- 


68  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

suade  Whitman  from  attempting  to  take  his  wagon  far- 
ther, picturing  in  strong  terms  the  difficulties  of  the 
way.  But  Whitman  knew  why  he  wanted  to  take  that 
wagon  as  far  as  he  could,  and  he  went  on  with  it  to 
Fort  Boise. 

At  Walla  Walla,  Phil  had  news  of  his  father. 

"Ay,  yes,"  said  Monsieur  Pambrun,  the  factor, 
"  your  father  was  here  with  some  Cayuse  Indians  and 
has  gone  on  to  Vancouver.  He  arrived  but  three  days 
ago,  and  left  yesterday.  Monsieur  Curtis  spoke  of  his 
son,  who  was  to  come ;  and  you  are  he  ?  You  are  wel- 
come ;  and  he  is  quite  well  again,  he  told  me  to  say  to 
you." 

Seaward  from  Walla  Walla  in  canoes  floated  Whitman 
and  his  companions,  until,  through  palisaded  heights 
and  mountainous  canon  walls,  where  the  Columbia 
roared  and  frothed  like  the  sea,  they  arrived  by  and 
by  at  their  destination. 

The  continent  had  been  crossed  by  Marcus  Whitman, 
and  with  his  coming  to  the  Columbia  and  to  Fort  Van- 
couver a  new  era  had  come  to  Oregon. 


CHAPTER   VI 
THE  WHITE-HEADED  EAGLE  OF  THE  COLUMBIA 

THE  great  Columbia  ruffled  its  surface  until  the 
white  caps  tossed  their  spray.  Monique,  the 
Iroquois  boatman,  tall  and  lithe,  straight  as  an  Oregon 
pine,  his  black  hair  floating  snakily  from  under  its 
head-band,  brown  body  and  brown  arms  moving,  eagle 
eye  fixed  on  the  shore,  poised  and  dipped  his  shining 
paddle  ;  and  every  oarsman  dipped  with  him,  pulling 
for  the  land  where  stood  Fort  Vancouver.  Like  the 
landing  at  Plymouth,  this  arrival  of  Whitman  and  his 
party  was  a  historic  event  long  to  be  remembered. 

On  the  shore,  in  the  midst  of  a  throng  composed 
of  Indians  with  fluttering  head-dresses,  gay  Canadian 
boatmen  with  swart  faces  and  hair  bound  about  with 
scarlet  handkerchiefs,  women  in  Indian  garb  and  in 
silks  and  laces,  stood  the  noted  Hudson  Bay  factor, 
John  McLoughlin,  the  White-headed  Eagle  of  the 
Columbia,  as  the  Indians  called  him,  ready  to  welcome 
the  strangers.  White  as  the  drifted  snow  was  the  hair 
of  the  great  white  chief ;    perils  in  the  Western  wilds 

69 


70  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

had  whitened  it  in  a  night !  Stately  and  grand  he 
looked,  in  his  blue  cloth  coat  with  its  two  rows  of 
bright  silver  buttons,  and  that  sweep  of  snowy  hair 
flowing  down  on  his  broad  shoulders.  At  his  side 
stood  John  Curtis,  the  father  of  Phil,  the  trapper 
boy. 

Monique,  poising  his  paddle  as  a  cheer  of  welcome 
rocked  the  air,  drove  the  nose  of  his  canoe  against  the 
shore.  The  other  canoes  followed  ;  the  waiting  crowd 
swarmed  down  to  the  boats,  and  the  occupants,  some 
laughing,  some  almost  crying,  were  shaking  hands  with 
friends  and  loved  ones,  from  whom  many  had  been  long 
separated.     Phil  was  in  his  father's  arms. 

How  well  John  Curtis  was  looking !  Phil  saw  that, 
with  delight,  at  the  first  glance.  The  weakness  which 
had  prostrated  him  had  passed  away  and  he  was  again 
the  bronzed  and  lusty  woodsman,  sinewy  of  body,  stout 
of  heart,  and  keen  of  eye. 

"  Ay,  you're  good  to  look  on,  boy ! "  he  cried. 
"  And  I'm  well.  Heaven  be  thanked !  Ah,  and 
there's  McKay,  and  Jo  Meek,  and  Baptiste  Latour  !  " 

Into  the  clerks'  quarters,  called  Bachelors'  Hall,  John 
Curtis  led  Phil,  followed  by  McKay  and  others.  There 
the  boy  told  of  the  incidents  of  his  trip  to  Green  River, 
of  the  sale  of  the  furs,  and  produced  the  order  on  the 
Vancouver  factor. 


WHITE-HEADED   EAGLE  OF  THE  COLUMBIA     71 

"  You  did  well,  Phil,"  said  his  father,  when  he  had 
heard  the  story  and  received  the  slip  of  paper ;  '*  as 
well  as  I  could  have  done  myself.  And  I  knew  that 
you  would." 

Madame  IMcLoughlin  and  her  daughter,  Eloise, 
dressed  as  nearly  as  possible  in  London  fashion, 
made  Narcissa  Whitman  and  Eliza  Spalding  com- 
fortable in  the  well-furnished  parlor  and  sitting  room 
of  the  fort. 

That  night  the  walls  of  the  old  post  at  Vancouver 
were  greeted  with  strange  music.  Usually  they  had 
echoed  to  the  songs  of  Indian  boatmen,  trappers,  and 
Canadian  voyageurs ;  the  rafters  had  rung  with  Scotch 
and  English  melodies,  and  with  patriotic  and  senti- 
mental airs.  Now  they  gave  back  the  sweet  tones  of 
Narcissa  Whitman,  as  she  sang  the  songs  which  mis- 
sionaries love.  More  than  forty  years  afterward,  men 
who  heard  her  that  night  spoke  of  her  singing  in 
words  of  praise. 

"  She's  got  the  voice  of  an  angel,"  said  rough  Tom 
McKay,  whose  heart  was  like  that  of  a  woman.  "  Ay, 
lad,  and  she  looks  like  an  angel,  with  her  hair  of  gold 
and  cheeks  like  lilies.  It  almost  makes  one  a  Chris- 
tian to  know  that  such  a  woman  would  come  to  a  coun- 
try like  this  to  try  to  lift  up  and  civilize  such  people 
as  Injuns." 


72  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

Phil  Curtis  had  not  fit  words  in  which  to  express  the 
pleasure  he  felt.  As  for  McLoughlin,  Phil  would  have 
found  himself  equally  at  a  loss  if  he  had  tried  to  ex- 
press in  words  his  admiration  of  this  man.  For  years 
he  had  known  him  as  his  father's  best  friend. 

For  a  thousand  miles  McLoughlin  was  the  greatest 
name  on  the  lips  of  men.  Assiniboins  spoke  of  him 
in  their  lodges  on  what  are  now  the  Manitoban  plains ; 
farther  to  the  eastward  Crees  and  Ojibways  sounded 
his  praises;  in  Eskimo  igloos  the  fur-dressed  trappers 
of  the  frozen  Arctic  acknowledged  his  sway,  and  the 
wild  Utes  and  wilder  Blackfeet  feared  his  power.  For 
he  was  chief  factor  of  the  great  Hudson  Bay  Fur 
Company,  and  at  that  time  the  Hudson  Bay  Fur  Com- 
pany ruled  the  Northwestern  wilderness.  His  dominion 
was  an  empire  in  extent  and  wealth,  almost  unknown 
except  to  a  few  men  who  managed  the  Company  from 
their  London  offices,  and  if  not  unknown,  almost  com- 
pletely ignored  and  wholly  undervalued  by  the  people 
of  the  United  States  and  the  authorities  at  Washington. 

Over  his  wild  realm  McLoughlin  wielded  the  sceptre 
of  an  autocrat.  He  could  be  iron,  when  crime  had  to 
be  punished.  But  his  rule  was  one  of  mildness  and 
conciliation.  The  gates  of  his  fort  —  and  that  fort  had 
the  strength  of  a  castle  of  the  Middle  Ages  —  were 
thrown   wide   open   in   welcome   to    all   who   came   in 


WHITE-HEADED  EAGLE  OF  THE  COLUMBIA     73 

friendship.  His  hospitality  was  given  with  a  Hberality 
as  unstinted  as  his  kindness.  He  sought  to  deal  honor- 
ably with  all  men ;  he  was  not  grasping,  nor  covetous, 
but  generous  and  Hberal,  whether  he  was  trafficking 
with  a  trapper  or  treating  with  a  refractory  Indian 
chief. 

Such  a  man  was  McLoughlin,  the  White-headed 
Eagle  of  the  Columbia,  who  ruled  his  vast  empire  of 
mountains,  forests,  and  plains  for  a  quarter  of  a  cen- 
tury, his  sceptre  of  iron  and  fire  concealed  in  the  velvet 
of  kind  words  and  gracious  deeds. 

It  had  been  the  intention  of  Marcus  Whitman  to 
locate  at  the  Dalles,  where  the  Columbia  narrows  in  a 
rocky  cleft.  Here  salmon  were  to  be  found  in  prodi- 
gious numbers,  and  here  crowded  the  fishing  Indians  by 
thousands  every  season. 

"  The  Dalles  Indians  are  treacherous  and  unreliable," 
said  McLoughlin.  **  Go  up  among  the  Indians  of  the 
Walla  Walla ;  they  are  the  finest  tribe  in  this  part  of 
the  continent." 

Back  to  the  Walla  Walla  went  Whitman,  accom- 
panied by  Phil  Curtis  and  others.  Spalding  went  to 
the  Clearwater,  to  start  a  mission  among  the  Nez 
Perces.  Narcissa  Whitman  and  Eliza  Spalding  re- 
mained for  a  time  at  Vancouver. 

The  Cayuse  Indians  knew  of  Whitman's  coming,  and 


74  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

awaited  him  in  great  numbers  at  Waiilatpu  (the  Land 
of  the  Rye  Grass).  Timuitti  was  there,  with  Tilskit 
and  Neekomy,  and  they  greeted  Phil  joyously.  A 
cavalcade  of  Cayuses  followed  Whitman  and  his  com- 
panions as  they  rode  through  the  tall  rye  grass,  looking 
for  a  site  for  the  mission.  They  were  accompanied  by 
their  chiefs,  Five  Crows  and  his  brother  Tauitau ; 
Tiloukaikt,  whose  face  was  almost  black  and  whose 
voice  rang  out  like  a  bugle ;  Tilskit,  Phil's  Indian  foster 
father ;  and  the  noted  Pio-pio-mox-mox,  whose  name 
meant  Yellow  Serpent. 

With  Pio-pio-mox-mox  was  his  son,  a  brave,  handsome 
boy,  who  was  dressed  in  the  finery  of  an  Indian,  but 
who  bore  the  name  of  Elijah.  He  had  been  attending 
the  Methodist  mission  school  a  year  now,  and  had  there 
been  baptized  by  Jason  Lee,  who  had  given  him  the 
name  of  Elijah  Hedding. 

Probably  another  such  group  never  rode  forth  to 
select  a  location  for  a  Christian  school.  Phil  Curtis,  in 
his  ornamented  suit  of  buckskin,  was  not  half  so  strik- 
ing in  appearance  as  Elijah,  the  son  of  Pio-pio-mox- 
mox;  and  the  gorgeousness  of  Elijah's  raiment  was 
dulled  when  it  was  compared  with  the  fluttering  head 
feathers,  the  ornamental  stripes  of  paint,  the  fringed 
and  beaded  leggings  and  moccasins,  and  the  brass- 
circleted  wrists  and  ankles  of   many  of   the   men  and 


WHITE-HEADED  EAGLE  OF  THE  COLUMBIA     75 

women  of  those  Cayuse  bands.  And  the  beautiful 
spotted  ponies !  They  were  painted  and  feathered  as 
wonderfully  as  their  riders.  The  cavalcade  was  warlike 
in  appearance,  too,  though  its  mission  was  peace;  for 
the  Indian  braves  carried  bows  and  arrows,  guns, 
lances,  and  tomahawks. 

Fort  Vancouver  was  far  away  on  the  Columbia ;  and 
Walla  Walla,  where  dwelt  the  nearest  white  man,  was 
distant  too.  Scattered  on  the  fringe  of  the  rye  grass 
meadow,  and  dotting  the  surrounding  hills,  were  the 
conical  skin  lodges  of  the  Cayuses,  while  their  ponies 
grazed  on  the  level  plains  and  beside  the  river  in 
great  herds. 

Before  even  a  comfortable  shelter  was  provided, 
Whitman  began  his  work  of  teaching  and  preaching. 
The  Indians  flocked  in  crowds  to  hear  him. 

Those  early  days  at  Waiilatpu  were  happy  days  to 
Phil.  Timuitti  joined  him  in  the  work  which  Whitman 
planned.  The  two  went  along  the  river,  where  they 
selected  trees  and  hacked  at  them  to  fell  them.  They 
pulled  at  the  saws  in  the  work  of  ripping  boards. 
Whenever  Whitman  found  a  breathing  space  in  which 
he  could  give  Phil  instruction,  Timuitti  stood  by,  appar- 
ently with  as  great  a  desire  for  an  education  as  the  boy 
whom  he  proudly  called  his  white  brother. 

In  the  month  of  December,  1836,  Marcus  Whitman 


76  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

brought  his  wife  to  the  new  mission  at  Waiilatpu.  The 
Cayuses  swarmed  in  from  the  hills  when  they  heard  of 
her  arrival.  Soon  a  school  was  organized,  with  Phil 
and  Timuitti  among  the  pupils. 

Elijah  came  down  from  the  Columbia  about  Christmas, 
and  he  and  the  other  two  boys  made  a  hunting  trip  into 
the  mountains.  Though  they  went  gladly,  it  was  at 
Whitman's  request  to  procure  a  winter  supply  of  game, 
and  they  took  ponies  on  which  to  pack  the  venison  they 
hoped  to  bring  back  with  them.  Joseph,  having  made 
his  appearance  at  the  mission  with  some  wandering  Nez 
Perces,  also  joined  the  hunting  party  of  which  Phil  was 
the  acknowledged  leader.  As  Chief  Joseph,  the  bright, 
kindly  boy  became  in  after  years  a  famous  Nez  Perce 
war  chief. 

The  Oregon  country  was  a  very  paradise  for  the 
hunter.  It  is  little  wonder  that  the  Cayuses  and  Nez 
Perces  loved  the  land  which  was  their  home,  for  its 
rivers  swarmed  with  the  finest  of  fish ;  and  in  numbers 
almost  as  incredible  deer,  elk,  and  antelopes  roamed  the 
plains,  the  mountains,  and  the  forests. 

Phil  Curtis  was  a  skilled  hunter,  and  the  Indian  boys 
came  of  a  hunting  race.  The  game-filled  mountains 
and  plains  were  open  before  them  to  go  where  they 
willed,  and  they  could  not  go  amiss.  They  were  masters 
of  the  rifle  and  of  the  bow  and  arrow.     Phil  could  draw 


WHITE-HEADED  EAGLE  OF  THE  COLUMBIA     77 

an  arrow  to  the  head  on  the  strongest  Indian  bow  and 
send  it  with  aim  as  true  as  Elijah,  Timuitti,  or  Joseph. 

It  was  glorious  sport  riding  through  the  mountains, 
and  by  the  rivers  where  the  tall  grass  flaunted.  Though 
there  was  snow  on  the  mountains,  there  was  none  in  the 
valleys.  Game  was  everywhere.  Even  the  bears  were 
still  nosing  about,  grubbing  for  roots  and  hunting  for 
dried  berries.  Throughout  the  clear  bright  days  the 
boys  hunted ;  at  night  they  camped  wherever  they 
chanced  to  be,  building  their  fire  and  cooking  their  cuts 
of  juicy  venison,  of  elk  or  bear's  meat,  on  the  glowing 
coals,  or  spitted  on  green  sticks  held  in  the  snapping 
blaze. 

When  they  returned  to  Waiilatpu  their  ponies  were 
laden  with  the  results  of  the  hunt.  Flour  was  exor- 
bitantly high  at  Walla  Walla,  and  luxuries  were  not 
to  be  had  at  all ;  but  there  was  now  a  bountiful  supply 
of  the  choicest  game,  and  dried  fish  was  plentiful.  So 
no  one  was  likely  to  go  hungry. 

The  school  went  on,  and  the  preaching.  The 
Cayuses  and  many  Nez  Perces  thronged  to  hear 
Narcissa  Whitman  sing.  If  they  did  not  understand 
the  words,  they  could  not  miss  the  message  of  sweetness 
and  kindness  which  the  music  held.  And  Phil  Curtis, 
applying  himself  with  diligence  to  his  studies,  made 
progress  that  the  Whitmans  regarded  as  marvellous. 


78  A  COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

But  Marcus  Whitman's  efforts  to  induce  the  Cayuses 
to  settle  near  him  in  something  like  a  permanent  vil- 
lage and  farm  the  rich  valley  land  were  not  very 
successful. 

"  Why  should  we  do  this  ? "  was  their  demand. 
"  When  we  want  the  wapato,  which  you  call  the  Indian 
potato,  all  we  have  to  do  is  to  wait  until  the  winter 
rains  are  over,  when  our  women  can  go  into  the  marshes 
and  dig  them  for  us.  When  we  want  the  camas  roots, 
we  have  but  to  wait  until  in  the  summer  the  stalks  die 
to  the  ground,  and  the  camas  are  ready  for  the  digging, 
and  our  squaws  do  the  work  —  it  is  not  man's  work  to 
dig ;  it  is  not  man's  work  to  do  what  you  call  farming. 
And  it  is  not  needed,  for  our  camas  and  wapato  grow 
without  our  labor. 

*'  When  the  waters  rush  roaring  into  the  rivers  from 
the  sea,  the  salmon  come  in  such  numbers  that  they 
almost  squeeze  the  water  out  of  the  streams,  and  we 
have  but  to  take  them  —  take  all  we  need.  In  the 
mountains,  in  the  woods,  everywhere  on  the  land,  our 
guns  and  our  bows  and  arrows  bring  us  down  game,  — 
bears,  deer,  elk,  antelopes,  buffalo,  —  why  should  we 
rear  animals  for  food  ?  We  rear  our  Cayuse  ponies ;  is 
not  that  enough  ?  We  hunt  the  deer  in  the  hills,  and 
the  buffalo  beyond  the  Snake  River ;  the  mountains  are 
filled  with  berries  which  are  to  be  had  for  the  gathering. 


WHITE-HEADED  EAGLE  OF  THE  COLUxMBIA     79 

"  And  we  do  not  like  to  live  long  in  one  place.  It  is 
not  the  life  we  love.  We  like  to  move  to  the  Columbia 
when  the  salmon  run ;  we  like  to  live  in  the  cool  moun- 
tains when  the  berries  ripen ;  we  like  to  wander  beyond 
the  Snake  where  the  buffalo  herd ;  we  like  to  camp  on 
the  prairie  when  the  nights  are  dry  and  the  stars  snap 
in  the  sky  like  coals  of  fire,  and  the  wind  sings  its 
song  in  the  tall  grass.  We  do  not  care  for  a  house 
that  cannot  be  moved  ;  our  lodges,  which  we  can  set 
up  here  to-day  and  take  down  to-morrow,  are  much 
better." 

So  the  Cayuses  came  and  departed,  and  came  again 
and  departed.  For  weeks  at  a  time  Phil  Curtis  would 
see  nothing  of  his  Indian  brother,  Timuitti,  nor  of  Tilskit 
or  Neekomy ;  then  he  would  awake  some  morning  to 
find  Timuitti  knocking  on  his  door,  and  Neekomy  and 
Tilskit  grinning  in  the  yard,  while  out  just  beyond  by 
the  river  their  lodge  would  be  pitched,  with  perhaps 
other  lodges  about  it,  and  the  ponies  grazing  peacefully 
on  the  rye  grass. 

Nevertheless  the  mission  at  Waiilatpu  was  not  un- 
successful, though  it  did  not  accomplish  all  that  Whit- 
man hoped  for.  Phil  Curtis  not  only  shot  up  to  the 
verge  of  manhood,  but  became  as  well  educated  as  any 
youth  of  his  age  whose  early  years  had  not  been 
neglected.     But   were   those    early   years  neglected  — 


8o  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

wasted  ?  Surely  not  !  For  now,  in  addition  to  the 
ordinary  education  which  every  boy  in  a  civilized  land 
receives,  he  had  accumulated  a  marvellous  store  of 
mountain  lore  and  wisdom. 

He  knew  how  the  Blackfeet  transport  their  villages, 
how  the  mountain  partridge  builds  her  nest,  how  the 
doe  hides  her  young,  when  the  buffalo  herds  move  and 
why,  the  difference  between  a  Pawnee  arrow  and  the 
arrow  of  the  Sioux,  in  what  way  an  Assiniboin  snow- 
shoe  resembles  the  snowshoe  of  a  Cree,  why  some 
Indian  tribes  make  their  bows  of  elkhorn  and  others  of 
hickory,  and  the  thousand  and  one  other  things  which 
his  father  had  taught  him,  or  he  had  learned  by  obser- 
vation and  experience. 

So  in  a  pecuhar  and  most  important  sense  Phil  Curtis 
possessed  a  rare  and  valuable  education,  which  might 
stand  him  in  good  stead  in  perilous  times,  and  in  all 
times  would  be  a  source  of  gratification. 

John  Curtis  visited  his  son  at  the  mission  school 
frequently,  but  for  himself  he  was  too  much  wedded  to 
the  trapper  life  to  care  to  give  it  up  for  anything  that 
civilization  could  offer.  Yet  he  was  proud  of  Phil,  and 
took  especial  deHght  in  his  advancement  in  knowledge. 

Tom  McKay,  Jo  Meek,  and  other  trappers  also 
stopped  at  the  mission  school  on  their  trips  to  and  fro 
between  the  mountains  and  Vancouver. 


WHITE-HEADED  EAGLE  OF  THE  COLUMBIA     8i 

"  Ay,  lad,  ye'll  be  a  great  man  some  day,  I  have  no 
doubt,"  said  McKay,  characteristically.  ''  Education  is 
a  great  thing.  I  haven't  any  too  much  of  it  myself,  but 
I  have  enough  to  know  that." 


CHAPTER  VII 
PROPHETS   OF   EVIL 

STANDING  one  day  with  Timuitti  and  Elijah,  be- 
fore Tilskit's  lodge,  by  the  silver  Walla  Walla, 
Phil  Curtis  heard  a  queer  sound.  The  ponies,  grazing 
in  the  rye  grass,  heard  it  also.  They  threw  up  their 
heads,  listened,  then  ran,  snorting. 

Timuitti  was  tall  and  straight  now,  a  handsome  youth, 
though  Indian  in  every  feature.  Elijah  was  also  tall, 
even  handsomer,  and  much  better  educated,  for  he 
seemed  to  have  a  natural  liking  for  the  white  man's 
books.  But  even  he,  much  as  he  knew,  could  not  tell 
what  that  strange  clicking  meant.  It  was  not  a  clicking 
of  horns  or  hoofs,  nor  even  the  squeaking  of  a  Cayuse 
saddle. 

The  boys  stepped  round  the  lodge  quickly  and  looked 
in  the  direction  of  the  sound.  Old  Tilskit  came  out 
hurriedly,  and  he,  too,  looked. 

"  Horse  canoe  !  "  he  exclaimed,  in  much  surprise. 

Over  the  slight  rise  came  a  wagon  drawn  by  ponies  — 
the  very  one  which  Marcus  Whitman  had  left  at  Fort 

82 


PROPHETS   OF   EVIL  S^ 

Boise  so  long  before.  Jo  Meek  sat  on  the  driver's  seat, 
wielding  the  lash.  In  the  wagon  behind  him  were  his 
Indian  wife  and  children. 

Whitman  came  out  when  he  heard  the  shouts.  See- 
ing the  wagon  and  recognizing  it  as  his,  his  face  Hghted 
with  pleasure,  and  he  went  up  to  Meek,  holding  out  his 
hand  in  congratulation. 

''Thought  I'd  bring  it  through,"  said  Meek.  "Al- 
lowed it  would  make  the  travelling  easier  fer  th'  wife 
an'  babies  ;  but  if  I'd  knowed  what  a  job  it  would  be,  I 
reckon  I'd  left  it  behind  at  Boise." 

"  Well,  I  must  thank  you  for  bringing  it  through," 
said  Whitman,  and  it  seemed  that  he  spoke  with  strange 
earnestness.  "  I  wanted  to  prove  to  everybody  that  a 
wagon  could  be  brought  over  the  mountains  from  the 
states.  You  have  finished  the  work  for  me.  And  now 
we  have  the  proof.  A  wagon  can  come  through  to  this 
point  from  the  East  —  this  wagon  has  come  through! 
Where  one  wagon  can  go,  others  can  go.  It  will  encour- 
age all  those  people  who  will  want  to  come,  and  there 
are  many  of  them.  In  a  few  years,  Jo,  this  valley  will 
contain  thousands  of  people  !  " 

The  Cayuses  were  crowding  thickly  about  to  look  at 
the  wonderful  "horse  canoe."  When  Jo  Meek  snapped 
his  whip  and  the  ponies  drew  the  wagon  forward,  the 
Indians  fell  back  in  alarm  and  astonishment.     It  was  a 


84  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

mystery  —  a  canoe  moving  over  the  ground  on  those 
queer  rollers !  Some  of  them  had  heard  of  that  unbe- 
lievable thing,  and  there  were  a  few  who  had  seen  the 
like;  yet  it  was  a  mystery,  a  strange  mystery.  They 
shook  their  heads,  they  talked  rapidly,  and  pointed  at 
it  as  it  rolled  along.  "  CHck-a-hck-lick !  "  they  said,  in 
imitation  of  the  sound  it  made.  "  Yes,  it  was  medicine ; 
and  it  might  be  bad  medicine.  These  white  men  did 
strange  things  ;  they  were  wizards  !  " 

Jo  Meek  announced  that  he  was  tired  of  trapping,  and 
meant  to  settle  down  in  the  valley  of  the  Willamette. 

''  The  beaver  air  gittin'  so  scarce  in  the  mountains 
that  trappin'  don't  pay  any  more,"  he  said.  "  I  think 
I'll  try  farmin'  ;  you've  got  a  mill  here  now,  and  there's 
one  at  Vancouver.  Game  is  gittin'  scarcer,  too,  as  well 
as  beaver." 

The  story  of  the  wonderful  "  horse  canoe  "  went  from 
lip  to  Hp  among  the  Cayuses  and  the  Nez  Perces  ;  it 
reached  even  to  the  wilder  tribes  in  the  mountains  and 
far  to  the  northward.  And  with  that  story  went  the 
statement  of  Whitman,  dropped  unguardedly  no  doubt, 
that  soon  there  would  be  thousands  of  white  men  in 
the  valley  of  the  Walla  Walla.  Jo  Meek  had  said  the 
beaver  were  becoming  scarce  and  the  game  scarce,  too ; 
and  white  men  were  coming  ! 

The  statement  was   exaggerated,  as   all   stories   are 


PROPHETS   OF   EVIL  85 

which  pass  in  that  manner  from  mouth  to  mouth.  Soon 
the  Indians  began  to  hear  that  the  white  men  who  were 
to  come  would  take  all  their  land  away  from  them,  kill 
off  all  the  game,  spear  and  slay  all  the  salmon,  and, 
having  deprived  the  Indians  of  food,  would  reduce  them 
to  slavery,  and  make  them  grind  grain  in  the  mills  and 
follow  the  ploughs  in  the  fat  soil  of  the  river  valleys. 

"  It  is  as  I  told  you  !  "  squeaked  the  old  Indian  sor- 
ceress, Waskema.  *'  When  the  first  white  man  came 
over  the  mountains,  I  said  to  you  that  he  was  like  the 
first  salmon,  and  that  in  a  little  while  others  would  fol- 
low him.  You  have  seen  the  hunters  increase  in  the 
hills  until  now  the  beaver  are  gone  and  the  deer  are 
being  slain  by  their  long-shooting  guns.  Doct'  Whit'n 
ploughs  up  the  ground  and  kills  the  camas  roots.  Soon 
we  shall  have  to  become  white  people  ourselves,  or 
starve." 

Waskema  was  withered,  wrinkled,  and  old.  She  had 
strange  powers,  the  Indians  believed ;  she  could  foretell 
the  future,  she  could  fall  into  a  sleep  and  behold  won- 
derful visions,  she  could  mix  roots  and  herbs  into  decoc- 
tions that  would  set  fire  to  the  tongue  and  take  the 
breath  from  the  body,  she  communicated  with  spirits 
and  talked  familiarly  with  demons.  She  hobbled  about 
with  a  bent  stick  for  a  staff,  peering  out  with  burning 
eyes,  her  sunken  lips  moving  and  muttering  marvellous 


86  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

wisdom.  The  tribe  feared  her ;  she  had  power  to  make 
them  marvel,  and  they  beheved  in  her. 

From  the  first  she  had  prophesied  that  evil  would 
come  with  the  coming  of  the  white  man.  She  had 
learned  to  hate  Whitman  and  his  mission  school.  The 
success  of  his  teachings  lessened  lier  influence  as  a 
sorceress.  She  claimed  to  be  a  healer ;  and  Whitman, 
with  his  greater  skill  and  knowledge  of  medicine,  had 
stripped  her  of  much  of  her  practice.  Therefore  she 
spoke  against  him  and  against  all  white  men  with  fierce 
vehemence. 

Old  Waskema  was  not  alone  in  her  denunciations  of 
the  white  men  and  in  her  prophesying  of  evil  to  come 
from  their  presence.  She  had  a  strong  ally  in  Baptiste 
Dorion,  the  half-breed  interpreter,  whose  mother  was 
celebrated  as  a  heroine  by  Washington  Irving  in  "Asto- 
ria." Another  supporter  was  Delaware  Tom,  who 
dwelt  in  a  cabin  in  the  Blue  Mountains  with  a  Nez 
Perc6  wife.  He  was  a  half-breed  Delaware  Indian, 
who  had  been  educated  at  Dartmouth  College,  and  had 
then  wandered  to  the  wilds  of  the  far  West,  where  he 
followed  the  calling  of  a  trapper. 

"  You,  Cayuses  and  Nez  Perces,"  said  Delaware  Tom, 
speaking  to  members  of  these  tribes  at  various  times, 
"  you  will  be  by  and  by  as  are  the  Indian  tribes  of  the 
East,  as  is  my  tribe,  the  Delawares.     You  will  be  scat- 


PROPHETS   OF   EVIL  87 

tered  like  the  ashes  of  a  camp-fire,  you  will  disappear 
like  the  camp-fire  smoke.  The  tribes  of  the  East  were 
far  greater  in  numbers  than  the  Nez  Perces  and  Ca- 
yuses;  but  the  white  man  came,  and  the  red  men 
dwindled  away  before  him.  Now  they  are  gone.  So  it 
will  be  with  you.  You  shake  your  heads  now,  you  do 
not  beheve  ;  but  I  have  seen,  and  I  know." 

Phil  Curtis  heard  of  this  talk  through  Timuitti  and 
Elijah.  He  knew  Baptiste  Dorion  and  Delaware  Tom, 
and  he  knew  Waskema ;  above  all,  he  knew  the  Indian 
character,  and  he  was  troubled. 

As  if  to  give  point  to  these  prophecies  of  evil  and 
emphasize  the  unguarded  statement  of  Whitman  that 
the  noted  wagon  would  be  the  forerunner  of  others,  it 
became  known  that  an  emigrant  party,  after  making  its 
way  over  the  mountains,  was  approaching  Walla  Walla. 

News  of  its  approach  ran  among  the  Indians  Hke  fire 
in  dry  grass.  Pio-pio-mox-mox  heard  it  from  the  lips  of 
his  son,  Elijah.  He  leaped  on  his  pony  and  galloped 
down  the  hills  to  Whitman's. 

''Is  it  true?"  he  demanded.  "We  hear  that  many, 
many  white  men  are  coming !  We  like  you,  Doct' 
Whit'n,  but  we  do  not  want  too  many  white  men  to 
come.  They  will  plough  up  our  camas  and  drive  away 
our  game.     Delaware  Tom  tells  us  so." 

Five  Crows  and  his  brother  Tauitau  heard  it,  Tilou- 


88  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

kaikt  heard  it,  so  likewise  did  Tilskit,  the  father  of 
Timuitti.  They,  too,  leaped  to  the  backs  of  their  spotted 
ponies  and  rode  like  the  wind  to  the  mission. 

By  the  time  they  arrived  there  the  party  which  had 
crossed  the  mountains  was  in  sight.  Phil  Curtis,  who 
had  been  on  a  trip  to  Fort  Walla  Walla  for  Whitman, 
jogged  in  on  his  pony  at  the  same  time.  He  beheld  the 
dust-stained  and  wearied  group  of  white  men,  women, 
and  children,  and  his  heart  warmed  toward  them.  But 
he  saw  Five  Crows  and  Pio-pio-mox-mox,  Tiloukaikt 
and  Tauitau  talking  together,  and  he  felt  a  sense  of 
uneasiness   and  alarm. 

Whitman  and  his  wife  were  more  than  delighted  to 
greet  this  party  from  the  states.  Narcissa  laughed  and 
cried  at  the  same  time,  as  she  kissed  the  women  and 
the  girls.  It  was  so  good,  she  said,  to  see  white  faces  ! 
Whitman  was  so  overjoyed  that  he  ran  from  one  to  the 
other  of  the  party,  shaking  hands  again  and  again. 

"  And  you  have  letters  for  us,"  he  said,  to  the  leader 
of  the  party.  "And  you  must  bring  a  great  deal  of 
news,  of  which  we  haven't  so  much  as  heard  a  word ! 
The  last  direct  news  we  had  was  months  ago,  and 
months  old  when  it  reached  us.  What  is  Congress 
doing  ?  Does  it  realize  yet  that  Oregon  is  an  empire  in 
extent  and  is  worth  a  thought  at  least }  What  about 
the  Oregon  boundary  }  " 


PROPHETS   OF  EVIL  89 

Though  these  questions,  if  heard  by  the  Indians, 
would  not  have  been  understood  by  them,  they  were 
understood  by  Phil  Curtis.  Often  he  had  heard  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Whitman  discuss  the  question  of  the  boundary 
between  the  possessions  of  the  United  States  and  those 
of  the  British  government,  and  he  knew  from  these 
talks  that  a  serious  struggle  for  the  Oregon  country 
was  one  of  the  probabilities  of  the  future,  if  the  Wash- 
ington authorities  ever  became  aroused  to  the  value  of 
the  Columbia  River  region. 

Whitman  and  his  wife  sat  late  that  night  talking  with 
the  adult  members  of  Lovejoy's  party. 

Phil  Curtis,  seated  on  a  bench  before  an  open  fire  in 
the  mission  room,  listened  to  the  chatter  of  the  young 
people.  The  fireUght  illuminated  his  handsome  face, 
which,  though  still  dark  and  tanned,  showed  the  refining 
influence  of  the  years  spent  by  him  in  the  Whitman 
home  and  the  education  he  had  received.  The  won- 
derful suit  of  ornamented  deerskin  given  him  by  his 
Indian  mother  Neekomy  was  outgrown  and  outworn 
long  ago.  In  its  place  was  a  suit  of  cloth,  purchased  at 
Vancouver,  and  fashioned  by  the  deft  needle  and  clever 
fingers  of  Narcissa  Whitman. 

When  the  little  party,  which  was  as  gay  as  young 
life  and  laughter  could  make  it,  had  broken  up  for  the 
night,  Phil  strolled  out  under  the  stars.     There  he  met 


90  A   COURIER   OF    EMPIRE 

Timuitti,  who  was  walking  thoughtfully  up  and  down 
the  river  side. 

*'  I  do  not  see  why  any  one  can  object  to  the  coming 
of  such  people,"  he  said  to  Timuitti.  *'The  Cayuses 
and  the  Nez  Perces  are  wrong  in  that.  How  jolly  those 
young  people  were ;  and  you'd  think  they  would  be  too 
tired  to  talk,  they've  travelled  so  far  to-day  to  reach  the 
mission !  And  that  girl,  Cora  Carlton  —  did  you  see 
what  bright  eyes  she  has,  and  what  rosy  cheeks .'' " 

"I  like  the  Cayuse  girls  better,"  said  Timuitti,  some- 
what displeased,  as  it  seemed  to  Phil.  '*  And  I  think 
the  Cayuses  and  the  Nez  Perces  are  right;  for  if  the 
white  men  come,  a  great  many  of  them,  what  will 
become  of  the  Indian  }  He  cannot  farm  ;  there  will  be 
no  game  for  him  to  shoot ;    so   he  will  have  to  die !  " 

Phil  might  have  given  more  heed  to  these  words  of 
his  Indian  foster  brother  if  his  thoughts  had  not  been 
too  much  distracted  by  memories  of  the  bright  eyes, 
the  rosy  cheeks,  and  the  witty  sayings  of  the  girl 
who  had  arrived  that  day,  and  whose  name  was  Cora 
Carlton. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

AN    IMPORTANT   MATTER 

THIS  is  one  of  the  most  important  questions 
that  the  American  people  were  ever  called 
on  to  settle,  and  they  seem  to  show  not  the  slightest 
interest  in  it !  " 

Doctor  Whitman  was  talking  with  Amos  Lovejoy 
and  Elijah  White.  The  former  was  a  lawyer  and 
miUtary  man ;  the  latter  a  government  Indian  agent, 
who  had  been  the  real  leader  of  the  party  that  had 
arrived  at  Waiilatpu  the  day  before.  The  subject  had 
been  uppermost  in  the  conversation  of  the  previous 
evening,  and  to  these  men  it  was  the  most  important 
theme  that  could  be  discussed  at  that  time. 

Phil  Curtis  stood  by  the  mission  door  with  pretty 
Cora  Carlton.  She  had  asked  him  to  show  her  where 
the  camas  grew,  and  to  tell  her  something  about  them 
and  about  that  wonderful  Indian  potato,  the  wapato  of 
the  marshes ;  so  they  set  out  together,  walking  by  the 
river. 

"  I  think  this  is  a  beautiful  country,"  she  said,  as  she 

91 


92  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

looked  across  the  rolling  plain  to  the  misty  Blue 
Mountains.  ''  Mr.  White  told  us  all  about  it  before 
we  arrived,  but  until  I  saw  it  I  did  not  realize  it  would 
be  so  pretty.  I  am  sure  I  shall  like  to  live  here.  I 
don't  wonder  that  Doctor  Whitman  is  anxious  for  the 
United  States  to  become  secure  in  the  possession  of 
Oregon." 

Her  fair  face  and  blue  eyes  showed  interest  and 
animation.  As  Phil  had  said  to  Timuitti,  her  eyes 
were  bright  and  her  cheeks  rosy.  Altogether,  he  was 
sure,  as  he  now  looked  at  her,  that  he  had  never  seen 
a  girl  so  beautiful.  He  already  knew  that  she  was 
related  to  Lovejoy;  and  he  had  met  her  father,  who 
was  a  member  of  the  expedition.  He  had  not  spoken 
to  her  mother,  but  he  had  seen  her  talking  with  Mrs. 
Whitman,  and  had  observed  that  she  was  a  bright-faced 
and  pleasant-voiced  woman. 

"  I  don't  suppose  this  country  looks  very  much  like 
the  East  ?  "  he  said,  as  they  walked  on.  "  Your  home 
was  in  Pennsylvania,  I  understand." 

"Not  at  all  like  it.  Pennsylvania  is  a  dear  old 
state,  though,  and  I  shall  never  cease  to  love  it.  I 
really  didn't  want  to  come  out  here,  I  must  confess ; 
but  I  think  I  shall  be  quite  satisfied,  now  that  I  have 
seen  Oregon." 

Phil  smiled. 


AN   BIPORTANT   MATTER  93 

"You  are  sure  to  be  satisfied,  when  you  have  seen 
all  of  Oregon.     I  have  never  been  in  the  East,  but  I 
don't  see  how  it  can  be  superior  to  Oregon.     Looking 
from  here  you  see  only  these  plains,  a  few  trees  by  the 
river,  some  hills  and  those  mountains ;  but  this  doesn't 
represent  Oregon.     It's  only  a  little  part  of  it.     Oregon 
has  everything,  it  seems  to  me.     It  has  a  really  won- 
derful river,  the  Columbia,  with  cliffs  so  high  in  places 
that  it  almost  makes  one  dizzy  to  look  up  to  the  top  of 
them,  and  great  waterfalls  and  rapids.     Then  there  are 
hundreds  and  hundreds  of  miles  of  the  biggest  trees 
there  are  in  the  world,  I   am   sure.     And  mountains ! 
There  are   some  very  large    mountains  out  here  — as 
big  as  any  you  saw  while  on  the  trip.     And  the  game 
and  the  fish  !     I  wish  you  could  see  the  salmon  swarm- 
ing in  the  Columbia,  some  time  I " 

"  Are  there  any  fish  in  this  river  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  a  good  many  ;  we  catch  them  now  and  then." 

"All  of  them.?" 

She  laughed  merrily. 

"  No,  not  all  of  them,  of  course,"  said  Phil,  flushing. 
"We  couldn't  do  that.  You  must  believe  what  the 
Indians  say." 

"  What  is  that  ?  "  she  asked. 

"That  we're  going  to  catch  all  the  salmon  in  the 
Columbia.     That's   one  of  the  things   Delaware  Tom 


94  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

tells  them.  He  says  the  white  men  will  catch  all  the 
fish,  kill  all  the  game,  and  dig  up  and  ruin  all  the 
camas  fields  ;  and  that  then  the  Indians  will  have  to 
starve,  or  go  to  work  like  the  white  men." 

She  looked  thoughtful  as  they  walked  on. 

"Aren't  you  afraid  you  will  have  trouble  with  the 
Indians  after  a  while  ?  The  people  of  the  train  were 
talking  about  that  nearly  all  the  way  over  the  moun- 
tains. There  has  always  been  trouble,  they  say,  where 
white  people  and  Indians  come  together." 

Her  question  made  Phil  thoughtful  too. 

"  I  have  been  trying  to  think  that  we  never  shall 
have  trouble  with  these  Indians.  Doctor  Whitman  has 
been  so  good  to  them,  and  they  like  him  and  Mrs. 
Whitman  so  well.  They  seem  glad  to  listen  to  his 
preaching,  and  a  good  many  of  them  have  joined  his 
church.  Pio-pio-mox-mox  has  joined,  and  so  have  Til- 
skit  and  Tiloukaikt  and  other  chiefs.  And  they  let 
their  children  come  here  to  the  mission  school.  All 
Indians  are  not  alike.  It  seems  to  me  that  Tilskit  and 
old  Neekomy  are  different ;  and  so  are  Timuitti,  Elijah, 
and  Joseph.  Elijah  is  one  of  the  finest  boys  I  ever 
knew." 

"  What  queer  names  they  have !  "  she  said.  "  I 
shouldn't  think  you  could  remember  them.  Elijah 
and  Joseph,  though,  are  Bible  names." 


AN    IMPORTANT   MATTER  95 

"Yes,"  he  said,  and  proceeded  to  tell  her  how  these 
Indian  boys  came  to  have  such  names. 

They  walked  on  and  on  until  they  came  to  the  camas 
fields. 

''You  heard  what  Doctor  Whitman  and  Mr.  White 
were  talking  about .'' "  she  said,  as  he  began  to  point 
out  the  dead  camas  stalks. 

''About  Oregon  and  the  United  States.''  They  were 
talking  about  that  all  last  evening." 

"And  the  English!" 

"There's  one  Englishman  in  this  country  —  though 
he  is  really  a  Scotchman — who  is  a  good  friend  to  Whit- 
man, and  that  is  Doctor  McLoughlin,  the  Hudson  Bay 
factor  at  Vancouver.  He  is  Whitman's  friend,  I  sup- 
pose, because  he's  a  friend  to  everybody.  But  the 
other  Englishmen  and  Scotchmen  are  acting  very  queer 
lately." 

He  bent  over  and  with  his  knife  began  to  dig  up  the 
camas. 

"  Since  I  have  been  attending  Doctor  Whitman's 
school  I've  been  more  glad  than  ever  that  I'm  an 
American  !  " 

"  More  glad  than  ever  }     Weren't  you  always  glad .?  " 

"Yes,  I  suppose  so."  He  stood  up  and  looked  at 
her.  "  But  I  didn't  understand  what  it  means  to  be  an 
American  as  I  do  now.  and  didn't  think  so  much  about 


96  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

it.  Until  I  came  to  Whitman's,  you  know,  I  lived  all 
my  life  nearly  in  the  mountains  with  trappers  and 
Indians.  My  father  was  a  free  trapper,  and  a  true 
American,  I  am  glad  to  say ;  but  most  of  the  trappers 
were  under  the  Hudson  Bay  Fur  Company,  which  is 
English  ;  and  as  far  as  the  Indians  were  concerned, 
they  didn't  care  anything  at  all  about  this  question  of 
nationality.  But  I  am  an  American,  and  I  love 
America !  " 

Phil  flushed  when  she  laughed  girlishly  at  this  out- 
burst ;  but  he  was  immediately  reassured. 

''  You  can't  love  America  more  than  I  do.  And  it's 
because  Doctor  Whitman  loves  America  so  much  that 
he  wants  Oregon  to  become  a  part  of  it.  I  don't  blame 
him ;  I  want  it  to  become  a  part  of  our  country,  too. 
It's  too  beautiful  to  go  to  the  English  !  " 

It  was  Phil's  turn  to  laugh. 

"  And  the  English  think  it's  too  beautiful  to  become 
a  part  of  the  United  States !  So,  you  see,  there's 
where  the  trouble  comes  in.  The  English  claim  Ore- 
gon because  Vancouver  explored  the  coast,  and  the 
Americans  claim  it  through  the  discoveries  of  Lewis 
and  Clark,  and  because  an  American  sea  captain 
explored  the  Columbia  and  named  it  for  his  ship." 

"  But  I  don't  suppose  there  will  really  be  a  war  about 
it." 


AN    IMPORTANT   MAITER  97 

Phil  dropped  down  and  began  to  dig  again  for  the 
camas  root. 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  said.  ''  I  read  in  a  history  the 
other  day  that  a  big  war  was  started  once  over  so  little 
a  thing  as  the  ownership  of  a  bucket." 

Whitman,  White,  and  Lovejoy  were  still  talking 
about  the  possibility  of  trouble  between  the  United 
States  and  England  over  the  possession  of  Oregon 
when  Phil  Curtis  and  Cora  Carlton  returned  to  the 
mission  along  the  winding  river. 

It  was  an  important  question,  and  it  soon  became  the 
burning  issue  in  the  far  Northwest. 


CHAPTER   IX 
A   DINNER     AND   A   BOAST 

UT  from  the  gate  of  Fort  Walla  Walla  rode  the 
daughter  of  Pierre  Pambrun,  the  Hudson  Bay 
factor.  The  boatmen  from  Vancouver  had  but  a  few- 
minutes  before  swung  in  to  the  shore  below  the  stock- 
ade  walls.     She  had    heard   them    sing   their   boating 

song:  — 

"  Malbrouck  has  gone  a-fighting, 

Miroiiton,  7nirojitofi,  viirontaine ! " 

But  she  was  already  seated  on  her  beautiful  pony, 
and  she  rode  through  the  gate  with  a  wave  of  her  little 
hand  to  Monique,  the  stern  and  stately  Iroquois. 

Off  in  the  distance  she  had  seen  a  horseman  advanc- 
ing on  the  trail  from  Waiilatpu.  That  horseman  was 
Phil  Curtis,  and  she  had  been  expecting  that  he  would 
bring  her  a  letter  from  Elijah,  who  had  gone  down  to 
Waiilatpu  but  a  few  days  before.  The  son  of  Pio-pio- 
mox-mox  had  found  favor  in  her  eyes,  and  she  was 
anxious   to   hear  from  him.     So,  though   the  boatmen 

98 


A   DINNER  AND   A   BOAST  99 

sang  merrily  of  the  great  Marlborough,  whom  they 
called  Malbrouck,  she  clattered  away  from  the  stockade 
walls  in  a  little  cloud  of  dust. 

She  was  a  beautiful  girl,  this  daughter  of  Pierre 
Pambrun.  Though  her  Indian  blood  showed  in  the 
dark  tint  of  her  complexion,  she  seemed  but  a  dark 
brunette.  Her  black  hair  floated  in  silky  curls,  and  her 
eyes  were  blue  like  those  of  her  father. 

Phil  Curtis  regarded  her  with  admiration  as  she 
careered  toward  him  on  that  beautiful  pony  of  a  rich 
cream  color  with  mottlings  and  markings  of  darker  hue. 
It  was  as  clean-limbed  and  wiry  as  a  racer.  And 
Maria  Pambrun,  as  she  galloped  up  the  trail,  reminded 
Phil  of  that  other  half-breed  Indian  girl,  famous  on  the 
Pacific  slope  as  the  Canadian  Lily,  who  rode  in  the 
chase  with  her  father  like  Diana,  the  huntress,  with 
flying  hair  and  flaming  cheeks. 

With  a  clatter  of  the  pony's  hoofs  the  factor's 
daughter  drew  rein,  as  she  encountered  Phil  Curtis. 
He  lifted  his  cap  in  greeting. 

"You're  slow  in  coming!"  she  pouted.  "I  think, 
maybe,  you  have  a  letter  for  me,  and  I  have  been 
waitins:  for  it  I !' 

''Yes,"  said  Phil,  and  he  produced  it. 

She  broke  the  seal  and  read  the  letter. 

"It's  always  the  same  old  thing,"  she  said,  pucker- 


loo  A    COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

ing  her  smooth  forehead.  "  Even  he  has  gone  to 
talking  and  writing  about  it !  " 

Phil  laughed. 

"  If  you  will  enlighten  me,  I  may  know  what  you're 
speaking  about." 

"  Well,  why  should  he  fill  his  letter  up  with  that  ?  I 
get  tired  of  this  eternal  Oregon  question !  Isn't  there 
something  else  to  write  about  ? " 

They  were  riding  on  toward  the  fort,  side  by 
side. 

"It  seems  to  be  a  subject  of  a  good  deal  of  interest," 
said  Phil.  "  So  I  suppose  Elijah  thought  you  would  be 
interested  in  it,  too." 

"  Now,  you're  laughing  at  me,"  she  declared,  and 
folding  the  letter  she  placed  it  in  her  pocket.  **  You 
may  tell  me  the  news  at  Waiilatpu ;  this  letter 
doesn't." 

"  The  Oregon  question  ! "  said  Phil,  smiling  at  her. 
**  There  doesn't  seem  to  be  anything  else  worth  talk- 
ing about  just  now." 

"  Doesn't  it  weary  you  ?  It  does  me.  It's  just  the 
same  here  at  Walla  Walla.  And,  as  if  all  this  talk 
wasn't  enough,  the  factors  and  agents  have  a  meeting 
here  to-day  to  talk  about  it  still  more." 

"  I  knew  it,"  Phil  admitted  ;  '•  that's  why  I  am  here." 

"  You  knew  it .? " 


A   DINNER   AND   A   BOAST  loi 

''  Elijah   told    me.       Doctor   Whitman    is   here,    too, 

isn't  he?" 

"He  came  up  to  see  a  sick  man  yesterday  —  old 
Maxani,  who  lives  in  the  hut  below  the  fort,  and  is 
down  with  fever." 

She  looked  at  him  intently. 

''  Did  he  come  here  just  to  see  what  was  to  be  done 
at  this  meeting  to-day,  and  not  because  he  wanted 
to  doctor  Maxani  .'^  " 

"No;  he  came  to  see  Maxani.  Doctor  Whitman 
isn't  a  man  who  would  do  anything  Hke  that.  What- 
ever he  does,  he  does  openly." 

"  But  you  came  to  see  and  to  hear  ? "  Her  blue 
eyes  flashed. 

"Yes  ;  and  to  bring  you  that  letter." 

"  I  thank  you  for  the  letter.  But  hasn't  there  been 
enough  said  about  this  Oregon  question  .?  " 

"  I  don't  expect  to  say  anything  about  it." 

"Perhaps  not,  but  you  favor  the  Americans." 

"  How  can  I  help  that .?     I  am  an  American  !  " 

Phil  made  the  boast  proudly. 

The  blue  eyes  of  the  girl  flashed  again. 

"But  the  Hudson  Bay  men  were  here  before  the 
Americans!  This  is  Hudson  Bay  territory.  The 
Americans  have  no  right  here.  The  Indians  do  not 
want  them;  they  were  satisfied  before  the  Americans 


I02  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

came.  They  trapped  in  the  mountains  and  sold  their 
furs  to  the  factors.  Everything  was  going  along 
peaceably  until  the  Americans  came." 

"I  thought  you  weren't  interested  in  the  Oregon 
question,"  Phil  remarked  dryly. 

"  I'm  not ;  I'm  tired  of  it.  But  I  can  see  that  if 
the  Americans  had  not  come,  there  would  be  no 
trouble." 

"Do  you   think   there  will   be  trouble.?"    he  asked 

quietly. 

''It  can't  be  helped,  if  the  Americans  keep  on 
coming.  Do  you  think  the  Hudson  Bay  men  want 
to  lose  all  this  fur  country.?  The  Company  holds  its 
charter  from  England.  What  would  that  charter  be 
worth  if  the  United  States  controlled  the  country.? 
It  wouldn't  be  worth  anything,  Phil  Curtis,  and  you 
know  it.  And  if  the  missionaries  can  have  their  way, 
there  will  be  no  more  trapping." 

"  We  won't  quarrel,"  he  said,  smiling  at  her.  ''  It 
seems  that  this  matter  tends  to  make  the  best  of 
friends  enemies.     We're  friends  ;  let  us  stay  friends." 

*'But  my  father  is  the  factor  here.  His  business 
is  threatened.  If  you  Americans  have  your  way, 
Fort  Walla  Walla  will  have  to  close  its  doors.  I 
shouldn't  like  that,  you  know;  it's  been  my  home 
always." 


A   DINNER   AND   A   BOAST  103 

Maria  Pambrun  was  becoming  excited. 

Phil  deftly  turned  the  subject:  — 

''  Will  Doctor  McLoughlin  be  here  at  this  meeting 
of  the  factors  and  agents  ?  He  is  a  man  that  I  love, 
and  I  should  Uke  to  see  him." 

Pierre  Pambrun's  daughter  thought  quite  as  highly 
of  McLoughlin,  and  this  praise  cooled  her  rising  anger. 

"  No,  he  will  not  be  here.  I  should  like  to  see 
him  myself ;  there  is  no  one  I  should  like  to  see 
better." 

"  Except  Elijah,"  said  Phil. 

Whereupon  her  dark  cheeks  flushed. 

Together  they  rode  up  to  the  stockade  gate  and 
entered  the  enclosure. 

Whitman  was  there,  in  the  midst  of  a  group  of 
men,  most  of  whom  had  come  up  the  river  in  the 
boats. 

Pierre  Pambrun,  red-faced,  light-haired,  round  and 
jolly,  was  doing  his  best  to  make  the  gathering 
pleasant  for  these  guests.  In  the  cook  rooms,  aided 
by  servants,  Madame  Pambrun  was  superintending 
matters. 

"  Ay,  that's  good !  "  said  Pambrun,  elevating  his  little 
red  nose  and  sniffing  toward  the  cook  rooms.  "We 
shall  have  a  dinner  to-day  fit  for  a  king  —  or  a  Hudson 
Bay  factor !  " 


I04  A  COURIER   OF    EMPIRE 

Doctor  Whitman  and  Phil  Curtis  sat  down  together 
to  that  dinner.  At  the  head  of  the  table  Pierre  Pam- 
brun  did  the  honors  as  host.  He  could  carve  a  venison 
roast  like  a  French  chef,  and  his  conversation  was  of 
itself  a  feast. 

Before  the  dinner  ended  a  horseman  clattered  up 
to  the  door.  A  minute  later  a  Hudson  Bay  man 
who  had  gone  out  to  speak  to  the  horseman  rushed 
into  the  dining  room,  his  face  flushed  with  excite- 
ment and  exultation. 

**  Hurrah  for  British  Oregon!"  he  cried.  "An 
express  messenger  has  just  arrived  from  Fort  Col- 
ville  with  great  news.  One  hundred  and  fifty  Eng- 
lishmen and  Canadians  are  on  their  way  down  the 
Columbia,  and  they  are  coming  to  settle  in  Oregon 
as  a  British  colony.  Hurrah  for  Oregon !  America 
is  too  late  —  we  have  got  the  country ! " 

A  roar  of  applause  broke  out. 

Marcus  Whitman  said  nothing.  He  was  too  shrewd 
to  show  how  the  announcement  affected  him.  But 
no  sooner  was  the  dinner  at  an  end  than  he  spoke 
to  Phil. 

"  Get  your  pony,"  he  commanded ;  "  we  ride  at 
once  for  Waiilatpu.  America  is  not  too  late,  even 
though  they  think  so.  America  is  never  too  late, 
when  she  sets  her  hand  to  anything ! " 


CHAPTER   X 

WHITMAN^S   RIDE   TO   SAVE   OREGON 

THERE  was  tearful  excitement  at  Waiilatpu. 
Marcus  Whitman  had  determined  to  try  to 
save  Oregon  to  the  United  States  by  a  journey 
across  the  continent  to  Washington. 

Winter  was  at  hand,  and  what  a  winter  trip  over 
the  great  Rockies  meant  Phil  Curtis  knew  only  too 
well  by  reason  of  his  experience  as  a  trapper.  Yet 
he  did  not  try  to  dissuade  Whitman.  He  had  the 
utmost  faith  in  the  man,  and  was  himself  deeply 
concerned  for  the  fate  of  the  beautiful  Oregon  coun- 
try. The  announcement  at  Walla  Walla  that  a  colony 
of  Englishmen  and  Canadians  had  entered  Oregon 
by  way  of  the  Columbia  had  stirred  his  blood  like  a 
blast  from  a  war  bugle. 

Nor  did  Mrs.  Whitman  try  to  dissuade  her  hus- 
band, though  the  thought  of  the  long  separation 
and  of  the  hardships  and  perils  of  that  terrible  win- 
ter journey  filled  her  eyes  with  tears  and  choked  her 

105 


io6  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

utterance,  even  while  vshe  tried  to  exhibit  the  courage 
of  which  heroines  as  well  as  heroes  are  made. 

The  tears  and  the  lamentations  came  from  the  new 
pioneers  who  had  come  over  the  mountains  with  White 
and  Lovejoy,  from  brother  missionaries,  and  from  the 
Indian  children  of  the  mission  school.  These  begged 
Whitman  to  stay,  to  reconsider  his  determination. 

"  Let  Oregon  go ! "  said  some  of  the  immigrants. 
"  America  has  shown  no  interest  in  it.  Congress 
thinks  more  of  some  little  cod-fishing  banks  on  the 
Eastern  coast  than  of  this  whole  beautiful  country. 
Only  the  English  seem  to  appreciate  it.  Let  it  go  to 
the  English ;  the  British  government  isn't  such  a  bad 
government  but  that  we  can  Hve  under  its  rule.  It 
will  be  a  foohsh  attempt,  and  it  will  be  made  at  the  risk 
of  your  life ;  and  your  life,  Doctor  Whitman,  is  too 
valuable  to  be  risked  in  any  such  way.  Think  of  your 
wife;  she  is  trying  to  be  brave,  but  any  one  can  see 
that  she  is  crying  her  heart  out.  She  is  afraid  that 
she  will  never  see  you  again.  And  we  are  afraid. 
Think  of  the  mission  school  and  your  work  here !  " 

Lovejoy,  however,  approved  of  Whitman's  decision. 

**I  will  go  with  you,"  he  said.  "We  will  make  the 
journey  together.  Oregon  must  be  saved  to  our  great 
nation.  No  matter  if  the  Eastern  people  and  Congress 
are  willing  to  throw  this  beautiful  land  away  as  Esau 


WHITMAN'S   RIDE   TO   SAVE    OREGON        107 

threw  away  his  birthright ;  it  is  only  because  they  do 
not  understand  what  a  country  it  is.  They  can  be 
roused  in  time  to  act.  Washington  can  be  reached 
before  Congress  adjourns." 

''  If  I  do  not  go,"  said  Whitman,  "  the  EngHsh  will 
pour  settlers  in  here  from  Canada.  The  movement 
has  already  begun.  Whichever  nation  settles  the 
country  and  organizes  a  government  will  hold  Oregon. 
I  know  that  I  can  so  stir  the  Eastern  people  that  a 
big  immigration  will  set  in  here  next  summer.  I  will 
bring  in  a  big  emigrant  train  myself.  I  must 
go!" 

The  feeling  of  patriotism  which  stirred  Paul  Revere 
when  he  rode  through  the  night  from  Boston  town  to 
Concord,  and  that  thrilled  Sheridan  when  he  galloped 
wildly  to  Winchester  to  rally  a  disorganized  army,  was 
leaping  like  a  sacred  fire  in  the  heart  of  Marcus  Whit- 
man. With  Whitman  it  was  a  feeling  of  patriotism 
and  religion  combined.  In  every  age,  when  so  moved, 
men  have  marched  to  death  as  they  would  go  to  a 
banquet. 

Out  from  the  little  mission  of  Waiilatpu  rode  Marcus 
Whitman  and  Amos  Lovejoy.  For  some  distance  they 
were  accompanied  by  a  tearful  group.  Then  they  rode 
on,  alone,  save  for  the  Indians  who  were  to  go  with 
them  a  portion  of  the  way. 


io8  A  COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

Phil  Curtis  stood  with  Mrs.  Whitman,  Cora  Carlton, 
and  others,  in  the  trail  that  led  to  the  mountains  from 
Waiilatpu,  and  his  eyes  followed  the  brave  men  as  they 
started  on  that  trip  across  the  continent. 

Long  after  they  had  vanished  beyond  the  reach  of 
vision  Phil  saw  them,  with  his  mind's  eye,  riding  on ; 
and  as  he  knew  the  route  over  the  terrible  mountains 
so  well,  he  was  able  to  follow  them  from  point  to  point 
in  their  perilous  and  wearisome  journey. 

The  Indian  guide  rode  ahead.  Whitman  and  Love- 
joy,  following,  talked  of  the  conditions  in  Washington, 
and  of  the  contents  of  a  letter  from  the  American 
Board  of  Missions  which  Lovejoy  himself  had  carried 
overland  to  Waiilatpu,  and  which  stated  that  the  mis- 
sion was  too  expensive  to  be  continued.  That  letter 
had  been  like  a  knife  stab  to  the  heart  of  the  faithful 
missionary.  But  he  had  said  of  it,  as  he  had  said  of 
the  lack  of  interest  in  Oregon  on  the  part  of  the  East- 
ern people  and  Congress,  "  It  is  because  they  do  not 
know ! " 

The  two  men  hastened  so  rapidly  that  in  eleven  days 
they  were  at  Fort  Hall.  Here  Captain  Grant,  the 
Hudson  Bay  factor,  tried  to  discourage  them,  as,  six 
years  before,  he  had  tried  to  induce  Whitman  to  aban- 
don the  famous  wagon  he  was  taking  to  the  Oregon 
country.      His    purpose    was   the    same   now  as   then. 


WHITMAN'S   RIDE   TO   SAVE   OREGON        109 

He  knew  that  the  Hudson  Bay  Fur  Company  did  not 
want  Americans  to  enter  the  Oregon  country. 

"  Doctor  Whitman,"  he  said,  as  he  made  this  last 
effort,  "  I  must  inform  you  that  the  snow  is  already 
twenty  feet  deep  in  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and  besides 
the  dangers  from  the  Blackfeet,  the  Sioux  and  the 
Pawnees  are  engaged  in  a  war,  and  it  will  be  as  much 
as  your  life  is  worth  if  you  try  to  go." 

''  I  must  go  on  !  "  said  Whitman.  "  If  the  snow 
were  a  hundred  feet  deep  in  the  mountain  passes,  and 
all  the  tribes  of  the  border  were  set  to  keep  me  from 
going,   I  would  go  on  !  " 

He  went  on. 

From  Fort  Hall  to  Uintah,  Whitman  and  Lovejoy 
met  with  terrible  weather.  At  Fort  Uncompahgra 
they  took  a  new  guide  and  turned  southward  to 
escape  the   deep  snows. 

"  The  route  is  not  passable,"  they  were  told.  "  You 
cannot  cross  Grand  River." 

'*  It  must  be  passed,  even  if  it  is  impassable,  when 
Oregon  is  to  be  saved  ! "  said  Whitman. 

The  guide  drew  back  at  the  crossing  of  the  Grand. 
Before  them  stretched  the  dark  river.  For  two  hun- 
dred feet  from  each  shore  solid  ice  extended,  and 
between  these  masses  flowed  a  lane  of  water  two 
hundred  feet  wide  in  which  ice  chunks   tossed. 


no  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

*'We  cannot  cross!"  said  the  guide. 

"We  must  cross!"  said  Wliitman. 

Dismounting  from  his  mule  he  cut  a  long  willow 
pole.  Then  he  mounted  to  the  saddle  with  the  pole 
on  his  shoulder,  and  rode  to  the  stream  and  out  upon 
the  ice  as  far  as  it  would  bear  him  and  his  mule. 
When  the  ice  began  to  crack  and  crumble  beneath 
the  hoofs  of  the  mule,  Whitman  ordered  Lovejoy  and 
the  Indian  guide,  who  were  behind  him,  to  push 
on  the  end  of  the  pole  that  stuck  out  over  his  shoul- 
der toward  them. 

"  Push !  "  he  cried,  as  the  mule  held  back  and 
refused  to  enter  the  ice-cold  water.  *'  Push ! "  he 
shouted. 

They  pushed  with  all  their  might.  The  mule 
slipped  on  the  ice.  The  next  moment  it  dropped 
into  the  wild  water,  and  went  under  out  of  sight, 
taking  Whitman  with  it.  But  when  it  came  up,  with 
Whitman  still  in  the  saddle,  it  began  to  swim  for  the 
other  shore.  With  the  pole  Whitman  pushed  aside 
the  ice  chunks  that  floated  against  it  and  hindered 
its  progress.  When  the  ice  on  the  opposite  side  was 
reached,  he  leaped  out,  broke  a  path  with  the  pole 
and  with  his  boots,  and  assisted  the  mule  to  make  a 
landing.  Lovejoy  and  the  guide  followed,  and  the 
"  impassable  "  Grand  River  had  been  crossed. 


WHITMAN'S   RIDE   TO   SAVE   OREGON         iii 

By  the  time  Lovejoy  and  the  guide  had  landed, 
Whitman  had  a  roaring  fire  on  the  bank  by  which 
to  warm  themseh-es  and  to  dry  their  clothing. 

The  route  chosen  now  lay  in  the  direction  of  Taos, 
in  what  is  at  present  New  Mexico.  It  was  hoped  that 
by  veering  toward  the  south  the  worst  storms  would 
be  escaped.  But  on  a  high  slope  in  the  heart  of  the 
mountains  they  encountered  a  blizzard  so  severe  that 
they  had  to  seek  shelter  in  a  dark  defile  to  save  their 
lives  and  the  lives  of  their  animals. 

After  remaining  there  ten  days  they  tried  to  go  on 
again,  when  they  were  caught  in  another  storm  so 
pitiless  and  bUnding  that  the  guide  lost  his  way. 
When  he  admitted  that  he  was  lost,  the  mules  were 
permitted  to  pick  a  path  ;  and  they  led  the  travellers 
back  to  the  old  camp  in  the  defile. 

Here  the  guide  declared  he  would  go  no  farther. 
To  go  on  was  death,  he  said,  and  he  was  not  yet 
ready  to  die. 

"There  is  but  one  thing  to  do,"  said  Whitman  to 
Lovejoy.  '*We  must  get  another  guide.  To  do  that 
I  will  go  back  to  Fort  Uncompahgra." 

To  Fort  Uncompahgra  Whitman  returned  with  the 
obdurate  guide,  encountering  terrible  storms,  while 
Lovejoy  remained  in  camp  in  the  defile  trying  to 
recuperate  the  wasted  strength  of  the  mules  by  feed- 


112  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

ing  them  boughs  and  the  inner  bark  scraped  from 
willows,  the  only  food  he  could  procure  for  them. 

In  ten  days  Whitman  returned  with  a  new  guide; 
and  as  the  storm  which  had  raged  almost  continu- 
ously had  abated,  they  pressed  on  again.  When  they 
ran  out  of  provisions  they  killed  and  ate  the  dog 
that  had  accompanied  them  thus  far.  Next  they 
killed  one  of  the  mules  for  food.  That  winter  of 
1 842- 1 843  was  noted  in  the  mountains  for  its  severity. 
But  ever  Whitman  pressed  on.  He  was  a  Courier  of 
Empire,  and  he  knew  it.  He  had  a  message  for  the 
people  of  the  East  and  for  Congress,  a  message  of 
such  supreme  importance  that  its  delivery  could  not 
be  delayed.  The  fate  of  Oregon  was  hanging  in  the 
balance.     He  must  go  on ! 

Neither  at  Taos  nor  at  Santa  Fe,  which  they 
reached  next,  could  any  news  be  had  from  Congress 
or  from  the  states.  At  these  places  they  remained 
only  long  enough  to  recruit  their  supplies.  Then 
they  set  out  for  old  Fort  Bent,  on  the  head  waters 
of  the  Arkansas  River,  which  they  reached  after 
incredible  hardships. 

Four  days  before  reaching  the  fort  they  encoun- 
tered George  Bent,  a  brother  of  General  Bent  him- 
self. 

"What   about   the   Oregon   question.''"    was   almost 


WHITMAN'S   RIDE   TO   SAVE    OREGON         113 

the  first  thing  Whitman  asked  him.  "  Is  it  still 
pending,  and  can  I  reach  Washington  before  Con- 
gress adjourns  ? " 

To  his  joy  he  learned  that  the  Oregon  matter  was 
still  unsettled,  and  that  a  party  of  trappers  was  ready 
to  leave  Bent's  Fort  on  its  way  down  the  Santa  Fe 
trail  to  Independence  and  St.   Louis. 

When  Whitman  arrived  at  Bent's  the  trappers  had 
gone;  but  a  runner  left  the  fort  at  once  to  overtake 
and  stop  them. 

Lovejoy  remained  at  Bent's  Fort.  Whitman  hurried 
on  down  the  Arkansas  alone,  overtaking  the  trapper 
band,  which  had  been  halted  by  the  runner  and  had 
gone  into  camp  to  await  his  coming. 

Lovejoy  followed  as  far  as  St.  Louis,  with  another 
caravan;  and  there  began  to  agitate  the  emigration 
movement  to  Oregon  in  which  he  and  Whitman  were 
so  much  interested. 

Marcus  Whitman  hastened  on  across  the  continent 
to  Washington,  a  Courier  of  Empire  as  great  as  any 
seen  on  the  Map  of  Time. 

The  pioneer  presented  a  singularly  unique  appear- 
ance when  he  arrived  in  Washington,  after  that  mem- 
orable and  historic  journey,  to  beg  of  American 
statesmen  not  to  throw  away  the  magnificent  domain 
of  Oregon.     Doctor  Barrows,  in  his  "  Oregon  ...  the 


114  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

Struggle  for  Possession,"  describes  his  appearance 
when  he  returned  to  St.  Louis  :  — 

"  He  wore  coarse  fur  garments  with  buckskin 
breeches.  He  had  a  buffalo  overcoat,  with  a  hood  for 
emergencies,  with  fur  leggings  and  boot  moccasins. 
His  entire  dress  when  on  the  street  did  not  show  one 
inch  of  woven  fabric. 

*'  He  was  a  man  not  to  be  forgotten.  He  was  of 
medium  height,  more  compact  than  spare,  with  a  stout 
shoulder,  and  large  head  not  much  above  it,  covered 
with  stiff  iron-gray  hair  ;  while  his  face  carried  all  the 
mustache  and  whiskers  that  four  months  had  been 
able  to  put  on.  He  carried  himself  awkwardly,  though 
perhaps  courteously  enough,  for  trappers,  Indians, 
mules,  and  grizzlies  had  been  his  principal  company 
for  six  years." 

Such  was  the  strange  figure,  such  the  man,  who  came 
to  Washington,  to  stand  before  the  President  and  the 
leading  statesmen,  and  to  entreat  them,  that  the  rich 
country  of  Oregon  might  be  saved  to  the  United  States. 

Before  that  fur-clad  figure  turned  away  from  Wash- 
ington, so  great  a  change  was  effected  in  the  sentiment 
of  the  East,  that  the  President  had  sent  this  message  to 
the  American  minister  in  England  :  — 

"The  United  States  will  consent  to  give  nothing 
below  the  latitude  of  forty-nine  degrees ! " 


CHAPTER   XI 
MUTTERINGS    OF   THE    STORM 

MARCUS  WHITMAN  returned  to  Oregon  with 
a  thousand  American  settlers,  who  had  with 
them  more  than  a  hundred  wagons  drawn  by  oxen  and 
fifteen  hundred  loose  horses  and  cattle.  He  had  filled 
the  East  with  new  ideas  of  Oregon,  and  this  was  the 
first  wave  of  the  great  emigration  that  was  soon  to  set  in. 
There  had  been  much  trouble  with  the  Indians  dur- 
ing his  absence.  Careless  Cayuses,  fishing  in  the  river 
by  the  mill,  had  set  the  mill  on  fire,  and  it  had  been 
burned  to  the  ground.  The  conduct  of  some  of  the 
Indians  so  frightened  Mrs.  Whitman  that  she  left 
Waiilatpu  and  took  refuge  in  the  Methodist  mission 
on  the  Columbia,  whither  she  was  accompanied  by  Phil 

Curtis. 

Spalding,  whose  mission  was  situated  at  Lapwai, 
among  the  Nez  Perces,  a  hundred  miles  northeast  of 
Waiilatpu,  had  also  experienced  trouble  with  the 
Indians.  It  was  at  Lapwai  that  Joseph  attended  school, 
and  Five  Crows,  Joseph's  half-brother,  drove  his  herds 

115 


ii6  A   COURIER  OF   EMPIRE 

over  there  each  winter  that  he  also  might  go  to  school 
to  Spalding. 

On  the  plains  at  Lapwai  a  great  Indian  council  had 
been  held,  attended  by  the  head  men  and  principal 
chiefs  of  all  the  Oregon  tribes.  Phil  Curtis,  Tom 
McKay,  and  a  number  of  other  white  people  had  gone 
to  the  council,  where  it  had  seemed  for  a  time  that  war 
would  be  declared  by  the  Indians  against  the  whites. 

The  talks  held  there  were  still  being  discussed  by 
the  Indians  when  it  became  known  that  Whitman  was 
returning  with  many  hundred  white  men. 

Tilskit's  band  of  Cayuses  was  in  the  mountains  and 
had  seen  the  monster  caravan.  Phil  was  at  Lapwai, 
and  the  news  was  brought  to  him  by  Timuitti  who  had 
ridden  hard  and  long  that  he  might  be  the  first  to  arrive 
with  the  information.  He  was  so  much  excited  he 
could  hardly  tell  his  story. 

"Timuitti,"  said  Phil,  soberly,  ''there  has  been  much 
foolish  talk.  You  are  my  brother,  and  as  a  brother  I 
tell  you  that  those  Bostons  are  good  people.  They  will 
help  the  Indians  all  they  can,  instead  of  harming  them, 
and  will  be  to  them  the  best  friends  they  ever  had. 
Remember  this,  as  my  brother." 

Then  Phil  mounted  his  beautiful  spotted  pony  and 
galloped  away  across  the  bunch  grass  to  meet  Whitman 
and  the  wagon  train. 


MUTTERINGS   OF  THE   STORM  117 

As   Whitman    drew   near  to  Waiilatpu  the  Cayuses 
clustered    round    him,    protesting    that    they    had    not 
intended  to  burn  his    mill— that   it  was   an    accident. 
''  It  is  all  right,"  he  said,  in  his  kindly  way,  smiling 
on  the  members  of  the  protesting  delegation  and  shak- 
ing each  by  the  hand.     "We  will  build  another  mill. 
We  will  start  up  the  school  at  once,  and  the  meetings 
will   begin    again.     These    people    want    to    be    your 
friends ;  we   want    all    Indians    and   white    men   to  be 
friends  together  here  in  Oregon." 

Mrs.  Whitman  returned  with  joy  to  her  husband  at 
Waiilatpu,  and  the  abandoned  work  was  taken  up.  Phil 
became  an  instructor  in  the  school,  though  he  did  not 
drop  his  own  studies.  Cora  Carlton  became  an  assist- 
ant teacher  to  Mrs.  Whitman. 

The  new  settlers  were  delighted  with  the  beautiful 
country.  Some  stopped  in  the  valley  of  the  Willamette, 
but  the  greater  number  went  on  to  the  Columbia  and 
began  the  settlements  that  were  so  soon  to  grow  into 
towns  and  cities.  For  a  time  all  went  well ;  but  Dela- 
ware Tom,  Baptiste  Dorion,  and  Waskema  did  not 
cease  in  their  efforts  to  create  dissatisfaction  among  the 
Indians  of  Oregon.  Waskema  mixed  strange  decoc- 
tions and    muttered  weird   incantations   and   terrifying 

prophecies. 

-I  see  the  Indians  falling  like  the  leaves,"  she  said; 


ii8  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

"  I  see  them  melting  away  like  the  mountain  snows 
when  the  Chinook  blows  warm  from  the  sea.  Oh, 
my  people,  my  people;  you  have  let  the  white  man 
come,  and  now  you  must  go !  " 

Dorion  rode  among  the  Nez  Perces  at  Lapwai.  He 
looked  at  their  houses,  built  in  imitation  of  those  of 
white  men,  and  at  their  growing  crops.  His  thin  lips 
curled  in  a  sneer. 

"  You  are  fools  !  "  he  said.  "  Do  you  not  know  that 
this  Httle  army  which  Doctor  Whitman  has  brought 
in  here  is  but  the  advance  of  a  greater  army  that  is 
coming  ?  When  it  comes  it  will  slay  you  and  take  all 
that  you  have,  —  your  houses,  your  crops,  your  ponies. 
These  missions  and  these  mission  schools  are  but  the 
traps  which  the  white  men  set  to  snare  silly  Indians." 

Soon  the  words  of  Dorion  were  burning  on  every  Nez 
Perce  lip. 

Delaware  Tom  came  down  to  Waiilatpu  from  his 
cabin  in  the  Blue  Mountains.  He  saw  the  Cayuses 
helping  Whitman  to  rebuild  his  mill,  and  beheld  the 
Indian    children    in   the    school. 

"You  are  already  slaves,"  he  said;  **  but  Whitman 
has  thrown  dust  in  your  eyes  and  you  do  not  yet  see  it. 
He  has  coaxed  you  to  the  work  which  white  men  want 
done.  He  is  making  squaws  of  you.  And  he  will 
make  squaw  slaves  of    all  your  children." 


MUTTERINGS   OF   THE   STORM  119 

Tiloukaikt  began  to  join  in  now  and  then  with  these 

malcontents. 

**  I  do  not  like  Doct'  Whit'n  any  more,"  he  declared. 
"  I  joined  his  church,  I  know,  but  I  do  not  like  him  any 
more;  for  he  tells  me  that  I  cannot  have  four  wives. 
He  says  I  must  give  up  three  of  them.  I  do  not  like 
such  talk,  and  I  do  not  like  Doct'  Whit'n  any  more." 

Phil  Curtis  heard  these  things  as  he  went  among  the 
Indians.  He  talked  with  Timuitti  and  Joseph  about 
them,  and  with  Tilskit  and  Neekomy.  He  learned  also 
that  another  half-breed,  Joe  Lewis,  whom  Whitman  had 
aided  and  befriended,  was  doing  much  bad  work  among 

the  Indians. 

"  We  are  your  friends,"  said  Tilskit  to  Phil ;  "  but  the 
heart  of  the  Indian  is  becoming  very  black." 

Tom  McKay  and  Phil's  father  came  in  from  the 
mountains  where  they  had  been  trapping,  bringing 
startling  stories  of  the  discontent  that  was  spreading 
everywhere  among  the  Oregon  Indians. 

Whitman  went  with  these  men,  and  with  Phil  Curtis, 
to  Tilskit  and  Pio-pio-mox-mox,  both  of  whom  were 
known  to  be  kindly  disposed  toward  the  whites,  and 
"induced  them  to  head  a  call  for  another  council. 

From  the  mountains,  from  the  Columbia,  from  the 
sea,  came  the  Indian  chiefs  and  leading  men,  in  all  the 
toggery  of  hoUday  dress,  paint,  and  feathers,  in  answer 


I20  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

to  that  call.  More  than  a  score  of  head  chiefs  of  the 
Indians  of  Oregon  responded. 

Waskema,  Dorion,  and  Delaware  Tom  came  also,  to 
stir  up  further  dissatisfaction  and  anger.  They  min- 
gled with  the  Indians  gathered  for  the  council  and 
talked  incessantly.  Deceitful  Joe  Lewis  kept  away 
and  professed  friendship  for  Whitman. 

"  The  words  of  the  white  men  are  a  medicine  which 
will  put  you  to  sleep ;  it  will  close  your  eyes  and  ears 
so  that  you  cannot  see  and  cannot  hear  the  ruin  that 
is  coming  to  the  Indians  of  Oregon,"  said  Baptiste 
Dorion.     "  Listen  not  to  the  words  of  the  white  men." 

"  Dorion  lies  !  "  asserted  Phil. 

"His  heart  is  black!"  added  Phil's  father. 

"  He  is  a  snake ! "  declared  Tom  McKay. 

So  they  said  hkewise  of  Delaware  Tom  and 
Waskema. 

Phil  talked  with  Tilskit,  with  Timuitti  and  Elijah, 
with  Joseph  and  Five  Crows.  Phil's  father  used  his 
influence  with  Pio-pio-mox-mox,  with  Tiloukaikt  and 
Tauitau.  Tom  McKay  went  everywhere  among  the 
Indians  and  into  their  lodges. 

The  Indians  continued  to  gather  at  Waiilatpu,  until 
their  ponies  covered  the  hillsides  and  their  lodges  filled 
the  valley.  From  the  savage  standpoint  it  was  a  brill- 
iant array.     They  made  a  holiday  festival  of  the  occa- 


MUTTERINGS   OF   THE   STORM  121 

sion,  indulged  in  races  on  foot  and  on  horseback,  and 
in  Indian  games.  So  splendid  was  that  barbaric 
gathering  at  Waiilatpu  that  it  has  been  likened  to  the 
Field  of  the  Cloth  of  Gold,  where,  in  1520,  Henry  VIH 
of  England  and  Francis  I  of  France  tried  to  outdazzle 
each  other  by  the  splendor  of  their  dress,  their  courts 
and  armies,  and  the  brilliancy  of  their  combats  and 
tournaments. 

To  witness  those  games,  races,  parades,  and  shooting 
matches,  white  people  came  from  far  and  near.     In  the 
races,   the    Indian    games,   and   the   shooting  matches, 
with  rifles  and  with  bows  and  arrows,  Phil  Curtis  dis- 
tinguished   himself.     With    perhaps   the   exception   of 
Tom    McKay,    there   was    not    a    better    rifleman    on 
the   border,  and    in  a  foot-race   he    could    outrun    any 
of  the  Indian  boys.      He  was  perfectly  at  home,  too, 
in  the  Indian  games,   for  he  had   played   them  from 
childhood.     Mrs.  Whitman   and  Cora  Carlton,  looking 
on  in  the  midst  of  the  assembled  white  people,  smiled 
upon  him  and  fluttered  their  handkerchiefs  in  encour- 
agement. 

In  only  one  contest  was  Phil  Curtis  beaten.  That 
was  in  a  shooting  match  with  bows  and  arrows,  when 
Matpah,  a  young  and  ambitious  Cayuse,  who  was  pitted 
against  him,  carried  off  the  honors.  It  was  a  victory 
given  purposely  by  Phil  to  Matpah,  in  the  hope  that  it 


122  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

would  enable  him  to  gain  the  good-will  of  this  young 
Indian  and  use  it  as  an  influence  in  favor  of  the  white 
men's  cause.  Matpah  had  recently  been  showing  an 
unfriendly  spirit,  and  had  been  heard  to  speak  scorn- 
fully of  the  Waiilatpu  mission  school. 

In  the  great  council,  held  in  the  open  and  attended 
by  all  the  Indians,  Marcus  Whitman  recounted  the 
story  of  the  four  Cayuse  chiefs  who  had  gone  to  St. 
Louis  in  search  of  some  one  who  could  tell  them  about 
the  White  Man's  Book,  and  of  how  he  had  answered 
that  call  and  was  now  at  Waiilatpu.  He  protested 
that  his  heart  was  filled  with  nothing  but  love  and 
kindness  for  them,  and  assured  them  of  the  peaceable 
intentions  of  all  the  white  men  who  had  come  into 
Oregon. 

Many  other  speakers  made  like  protestations.  Tom 
McKay  and  Phil's  father  addressed  the  Nez  Perces 
and  Cayuses  in  their  own  languages. 

As  for  Phil  Curtis,  he  ventured  upon  the  greatest 
speech  he  had  ever  attempted,  in  which  he  told  of 
his  adoption  into  the  Cayuse  band  of  Tilskit,  and  why 
he  had  been  so  favored  by  that  well-known  chief.  He 
was  now  a  Cayuse  himself,  he  said  —  the  white  brother 
of  Timuitti,  whom  all  knew,  and  the  white  son  of  Til- 
skit  and  Neekomy.  He  would  not  lie  to  his  brothers 
of  the  Cayuse  tribe,  nor  to  his  friends,  the  Nez  Perces. 


MUTTERINGS   OF   THE   STORM  123 

But  Baptiste  Dorion  and  Delaware  Tom  stood  up 
boldly  before  the  white  men  and  denounced  Whitman 
and  the  American  settlers,  while  old  Waskema  mut- 
tered discontent  in  the  lodges  with  the  Indian  women. 

The  education  which  Delaware  Tom  had  received 
at  Dartmouth  seemed  but  to  add  to  his  craftiness  and 
give  keenness  and  edge  to  his  stinging  words.  He 
waxed  almost  eloquent  as  he  pictured  the  wrongs  which 
had  been  perpetrated  against  various  Indian  tribes  in 
the  East,  and  particularly  against  his  own  tribe,  the 
Delawares ;  and  with  stirring  and  burning  words  he 
warned  the  Cayuses  and  Nez  Perces  against  the  white 
men. 

Baptiste  Dorion  spoke  with  such  vehemence  that 
his  partisans  with  difficulty  restrained  themselves  from 
giving  vent  to  their  feelings  in  wild  Indian  yells.  He 
was  garbed  as  a  Canadian  voyageur.  He  was  not  a 
bad-looking  half-breed ;  but  when  he  voiced  his  impas- 
sioned thoughts,  his  black  eyes  glittered  and  his  sharp 
face  seemed  to  grow  sharper  and  thinner.  He  tossed 
his  long  hair  Hke  a  black  mane,  and  his  bosom  heaved 
convulsively  as  he  stopped  from  time  to  time  to  note 
the  effect  of  his  words. 

''The  Bostons  have  already  defeated  the  Hudson 
Bay  Fur  Company  and  will  soon  drive  them  out  of  the 
country.     The  Hudson  Bay  men  treated  you  well ;  you 


124  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

lived  as  your  fathers  lived  before  you,  and  the  factors 
bought  your  furs  and  gave  you  guns  and  blankets  and 
the  things  you  need.  The  Hudson  Bay  men  did  not 
drive  the  game  out  of  the  mountains  ;  they  wanted  the 
game  and  the  fur  animals  to  remain,  so  that  you  might 
continue  to  be  trappers  and  hunters,  as  your  fathers 
were  before  you.  The  Bostons  are  killing  your  game 
and  they  are  trapping  your  beavers.  They  already 
have  the  country ;  for  the  English  must  now  go,  since 
Whitman  brought  in  his  army  of  Bostons.  The  next  to 
go,  after  your  friends  the  English  leave,  will  be  you  —  " 
he  thrust  out  his  quivering  hands  and  pointed  his  lean 
brown  fingers  at  the  Indians  —  "you,  Cayuses ;  you, 
Nez  Perces  !  The  English  are  going,  and  you  will  go  ! 
They  will  sail  in  their  big  canoes  back  to  their  old 
homes  beyond  the  sea ;  but  you  —  you,  Cayuses  and 
Nez  Perces — where  will  you  go  but  into  the  ground.? 
Utter  destruction  and  the  grave  will  be  your  portion." 

But  for  the  calmer  words  of  Pio-pio-mox-mox,  Tilskit, 
and  some  other  chiefs  who  thought  well  of  Marcus  Whit- 
man, the  great  Indian  council  would  have  been  swept 
off  its  feet  by  the  burning  denunciations  of  Baptiste 
Dorion  and  Delaware  Tom. 

"We  will  not  fight  now,"  said  the  assembled  chiefs  at 
last,  clapping  their  hands.  "  We  are  willing  to  believe 
that  the  Bostons  are  our  friends.     But  because  Dorion 


MUTTERINGS   OF   THE   STORM  125 

and  Delaware  Tom  say  they  are  not,  we  will  send  a 
messenger  to  the  White-headed  Eagle  at  Vancouver 
and  inquire  into  this  thing." 

"  The  danger  is  over  for  a  time,"  said  Tom  McKay  to 
Phil,  as  the  council  closed ;  *'  but  it's  over  for  only  a 
time,  Fm  afraid." 


CHAPTER  XII 
MATPAH   GETS   A  DUCKING 

THOUGH  Phil  Curtis  had  permitted  Matpah  to 
defeat  him  in  the  shooting  match  with  bows  and 
arrows,  he  failed  to  gain  the  good-will  of  that  lusty 
young  Cayuse,  in  whose  heart  dark  designs  and  strong 
ambitions  had  begun  to  stir.  Day  after  day,  long  after 
the  adjournment  of  the  Indian  council,  Matpah  hung 
about  the  Waiilatpu  mission.  He  had  heretofore 
scorned  the  school  which  Whitman  was  conducting  for 
the  instruction  of  the  young  Cayuses ;  but  now,  though 
he  would  not  enter  any  of  the  classes  for  the  purpose  of 
study,  he  was  much  of  the  time  in  the  schoolroom,  and 
when  he  could  do  so  he  attended  the  recitations  con- 
ducted by  Cora  Carlton,  who  feared  him  because  of  the 
strange  glances  he  occasionally  bent  on  her. 

At  the  first  opportunity  Phil  spoke  to  Timuitti  of  the 
matter  that  was  now  uppermost  in  his  thoughts. 

"  Why  is  Matpah  here  all  the  time,  when  he  thinks 
himself  too  old  and  too  wise  to  be  a  pupil  in  the 
school .''  "  he  asked, 

126 


MATPAH   GETS  A   DUCKING  127 

Timuitti  regarded  his  questioner  with  a  queer  smile. 

"You  not  know  ?" 

"I'm    not    good    at    guessing,    so    I    don't    care   to 

guess." 

"  Matpah  say  he  going  to  make  that  girl  his  wife." 

Phil's  face  flushed. 

"  He  has  been  saying  that  ?  " 

"  Many  time  I  hear  him  say  that.  That  why  he 
come  here  all  time.  He  say  he  going  to  be  big  chief 
by  and  by,  and  she  his  wife." 

Phil  could  not  discuss  the  matter  with  Timuitti,  for  it 

would  have  been  impossible  to  convey  to  the  Indian 

youth  his  viewpoint  without  at   the  same  time  saying 

things  which   would   have   given    offence.     It   seemed 

likely  that  to  the  mind  of    Timuitti,  Matpah  was   not 

undesirable  as  a  husband  for  Cora  Carlton,  or  any  other 

girl,  white  or  red.     Matpah  was  already  influential  in 

his  tribe,  and  would  no  doubt  become  a  leading  chief 

in  time,  for  he  was   both    capable    and    intelHgent,  in 

the    Indian   way.     The    Canadian  voyageurs,  many  of 

the  trappers,  and  even  some  of  the  Hudson  Bay  factors 

and  agents,  including  the  great   McLoughlin   himself, 

were  married  to  Indian  women.     Why,  then,  an  Indian 

might  be  expected  to  ask,  should  it  be  thought  wrong 

for  Matpah  to  aspire  to  the  hand  of  a  white  girl .? 

"  So  that  is  the  reason  he  is  here  all  the  time !  "  was 


12; 


A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 


Phil's  thought.     ''  He  can't  understand  how  unusual  his 
idea  is,  and  trouble  may  come  of  it." 

The  continued  presence  of  the  ambitious  young 
Cayuse  irritated  him.  Nevertheless,  he  held  his  peace, 
until  one  day  when  an  act  of  Matpah  threw  him  into 
a  great  and  ungovernable  rage. 

That  day  Phil  had  gone  up  the  river  some  distance 
to  inspect  the  ripening  crops  which  Whitman  had  cul- 
tivated in  the  valley.  As  he  strolled  slowly  by  the 
river  side  on  his  return,  he  was  not  thinking  of  Matpah. 
He  was  watching  the  red  clouds  in  the  west  where  the 
sun  was  sinking,  and  glancing  now  and  then  at  the 
Indian  lodges  by  the  river.  In  front  of  the  mission  a 
number  of  Indians  had  gathered,  some  on  foot  and 
others  on  horseback.  Whitman  was  standing  by  the 
door  talking  with  them. 

As  Phil  followed  the  path,  which  dipped  toward  the 
river  through  the  high  grass,  the  Indians  by  the  mission 
door,  and  even  the  lodges  near  at  hand,  were  for  a  time 
shut  from  his  sight.  Yet  the  high  clouds,  shining  like 
mingled  gold  and  copper,  held  his  attention.  Suddenly 
he  heard  a  cry  of  fright  in  a  girhsh  voice. 
"  Cora !  "  was  his  instant  thought. 
He  broke  into  a  quick  run,  and  as  he  came  out  upon 
the  higher  ground  he  saw  Cora  Carlton  just  before  him 
struggling  in  the  grasp  of  Matpah. 


MATPAH   GETS  A   DUCKING  129 

The  young  Cayuse  had  been  very  pertinacious  that 
day  in  his  attentions  to  the  girl.  In  the  schoolroom  he 
had  sat  staring  at  her  until  her  cheeks  reddened  with 
irritation  and  nervousness,  and  outside  of  the  school- 
room he  had  hung  about  as  if  desirous  of  speaking 
to  her. 

She  had  avoided  him,  she  thought,  for  he  was  not 
to  be  seen  when  she  set  out  along  the  river  path,  her 
intention  being  to  meet  Phil  and  walk  home  with  him,  as 
his  return  was  expected  about  that  time. 

As  she  walked  on  she  had  almost  ceased  to  think  of 
Matpah,  so  was  very  much  surprised  and  startled  when 
he  arose  from  the  grass  at  the  side  of  the  path  and 
stepped  toward  her,  his  glance  fixed  on  her  in  the 
peculiar  manner  she  had  before  observed.  She  halted 
in  indecision  and  turned  half  about,  whereupon  the 
dark  eyes  showed  a  flash  of  anger. 

"I  wait  here  to  see  you  ! "  he  said,  in  a  tone  of  com- 
mand.    "  I  want  to  spik  to  you  this  long  time." 

He  came  close  up  to  her  and  put  his  hand  on  her 
shoulder,  looking  down  into  her  face. 

"  I  will  spik  to  you ;  and  I  will  tell  you  that  my  wife 
you  will  be  some  day !  " 

His  grasp  tightened  painfully  on  her  shoulder. 

"  Let  me  go,  please  !  "  she  begged. 

"  No,  I  will  spik  with  you !  "    he  declared  fiercely. 


I30  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

"  I  see  you  come  and  I  wait  here,  and  now  I  will  spik 
with  you !  " 

She  tried  to  draw  back.  His  look  and  his  words, 
more  than  the  pain,  frightened  her;  and  when  his 
grip  on  her  shoulder  tightened  still  more,  she  cried  out 
in  alarm. 

It  was  that  cry  which  brought  Phil  Curtis  along  the 
path  and  over  the  rise  in  wild  haste. 

Matpah  released  the  girl  and  stepped  back  when  he 
beheld  Phil,  and  she  started  instantly  in  a  run  toward 
the  mission.  Phil  was  shaking  with  rage  as  he  ap- 
proached  the  stalwart  young  Indian.  Matpah  was 
older,  taller,  and  apparently  much  stronger  than  he. 
Naturally  not  a  bad-looking  Indian,  his  dark  face  was 
disfigured  now  by  an  angry  scowl. 

*'Why  do  you  come?"  he  demanded,  speaking  in 
Cayuse. 

"  It  seems  that  I  was  needed,"  said  Phil,  still  trem- 
bling. "  What  were  you  doing .?  Answer  me  that ! 
You  are  a  coward  to  frighten  a  girl  in  that  way." 

Matpah  answered  with  an  unexpected  blow,  driven 
straight  at  Phil's  face.  Phil  dodged  it  and  leaped  at 
him  like  a  tiger.  The  next  instant  he  and  the  Cayuse 
were  rolHng  together  on  the  ground,  while  Whitman 
and  the  Indians  in  front  of  the  mission,  and  some  of 
the  Indians  who  had  been  lolling  round  the  near-by 
lodges,  hurried  toward  the  scene. 


MATPAH   GETS   A    DUCKING  131 

It  was  not  often  that  Phil  Curtis  lost  his  head,  but 
he  lost  it  now.  Overpowered  by  indignation  and 
wrath,  he  caught  Matpah  by  the  throat.  The  young 
Cayuse,  possessed  of  great  strength,  rose  on  his  knees, 
and  then  gained  his  feet.  Together  in  the  tall  grass 
the  combatants  swayed  to  and  fro.  The  Indian  drove 
Phil  backward,  and  for  a  little  while  it  seemed  that 
he  would  push  him  into  the  river,  which  was  just  at 
hand;  but  as  Phil  retreated,  he  shifted  his  position 
suddenly,  stooped  down,  and  with  a  quick  movement 
and  a  lightning-hke  swing  he  lifted  Matpah  from  his 
feet  and  hurled  him  into  the  stream. 

As  soon  as  it  was  over  Phil  stood  dazed,  panting 
and  trembhng.  Matpah  struck  the  water  with  a  loud 
splash  and  sank  from  sight  instantly.  But  he  came 
up  in  a  little  while,  and  though  plainly  bewildered 
began  to  swim  toward  the  shore.  Whitman  was  on 
the  bank  and  helped  him  out  of  the  water  as  he 
made  his  landing. 

Phil  stood  in  the  grass  by  the  path.  His  heart 
jumped  and  his  nerves  were  all  a-quiver.  The  Indians 
who  had  arrived  were  talking  loudly,  but  he  did  not 
notice  what  they  said. 

Matpah  stopped  as  he  came  through  the  grass 
from  the  margin  of  the  stream.  His  clothing  was 
dripping,    and     his   long   hair   was    a  wet   wisp.      He 


132  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

looked  at  Phil  long  and  steadily,  his  black  eyes  gleam- 
ing with  ferocity  and  hate. 

"  Boston,"  he  said,  speaking  in  English,  that 
Whitman  might  not  fail  to  understand,  *'  I  am 
Matpah,  and  a  Walla  Walla  Cayuse,  and  we  will  meet 
again  !  " 

The  gathering  Indians  closed  about  him,  and  Phil 
heard  him  explaining  to  them  what  had  occurred, 
interpreting  it  in  a  way  to  suit  himself.  Phil  did  not 
care  to  be  drawn  into  a  discussion  which  would  be  un- 
profitable. He  knew  that  in  his  present  temper  he 
might  say  things  that  were  better  left  unsaid,  so  he 
turned  and  walked  slowly  along  the  path.  As  he  thus 
walked  on.  Whitman  overtook  him. 

"  I  was  too  hasty,"  Phil  admitted,  as  he  told  of 
what  had  occurred ;  "  but  when  I  heard  Cora  scream 
and  ran  to  her  assistance,  he  struck  at   me." 

"It's  unfortunate  —  the  whole  thing  is  very  unfortu- 
nate, but  I  don't  think  I  can  blame  you,"  said  Whitman, 
somewhat  to  Phil's  surprise,  for  Marcus  Whitman  was 
always  set  against  fighting  of  any  kind,  or  for  any 
purpose.  "  I  had  just  a  word  with  her,  as  she  ran  down 
the  path.  He  had  been  hiding  in  the  grass,  and  he 
frightened  her  terribly." 

"  He  is  a  scoundrel !  "  said  Phil,  giving  open  expres- 
sion to  his  indignation. 


MATPAH   GETS  A   DUCKING  133 

Whitman  glanced  back  at  the  Indians,  who  were 
still  gathered  about  Matpah. 

"  If  he  were  a  white  man  I  should  call  him  an 
►  unmitigated  scoundrel.  He  probably  doesn't  under- 
stand that  he  has  done  anything  wrong ;  Ukely  he  feels 
that  he  is  the  one  who  has  been  wronged.  I've  seen 
for  some  time  that  he  has  been  attracted  to  Miss 
Carlton.  Being  a  savage,  he  has  acted  like  a  savage. 
I  don't  doubt   that    he  wants   to  make  her  his  wife." 

"  Yes  ;  Timuitti  told  me  that  he  did." 

Whitman  again  glanced  back  at  the  Indians,  and  saw 
that  they  were  moving  toward  one  of  the  lodges,  with 
Matpah  still  in  their  midst. 

*'  It  will  be  policy  for  me  to  have  a  talk  with  them," 
he  said  thoughtfully.  "  I  don't  want  IMatpah  to  win 
them  over  to  his  side,  and  he  will  do  it  if  he  can." 

He  turned  back  along  the  path,  while  Phil  went  on 
to  the  mission,  where  he  found  Cora  Carlton  and  Mrs. 
Whitman,  both  in  a  state  of  great  indignation.  They 
were  also  filled  with  a  good  deal  of  uneasiness. 

''  I  can't  blame  you,  Phil,"  said  Narcissa.  ''Yet  I  am 
afraid  trouble  will  come  of  it.  I've  been  watching  that 
young  Cayuse  for  some  time,  and  I'm  sure  he  is  a 
vindictive  Indian." 

"  I'm  sorry  that  it  happened,"  Phil  confessed ;  ''  I 
ought  to  have  held  in  my  temper.     I  know  I  lost  con- 


134  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

trol  of  myself  completely.  Matpah  will  join  with  those 
other  plotters  now  and  do  all  he  can  against  the  white 
people.  But  it  couldn't  be  helped ;  at  any  rate,  it  can't 
be  helped  now." 

When  Whitman  returned  to  the  mission,  he  reported 
that  he  thought  no  trouble  would  arise  out  of  the  in- 
cident, as  Matpah  appeared  to  be  in  a  more  cheerful 
frame  of  mind. 

*'  He  is  only  crafty,"  said  Phil.  "  He  is  not  a  fellow 
to  tell  you  what  he  thinks  or  what  he  intends  to  do. 
Timuitti  and  Elijah  will  be  the  ones  to  find  that  out 
for  me." 

"The  thing  that  pleases  me  is  that  he  won't  come 
back  now  to  the  school,"  was  Cora  Carlton's  declara- 
tion. "  I've  seen  how  he  has  been  watching  me,  and 
I've  grown  more  and  more  afraid  of  him  every  day." 

Phil  talked  with  Timuitti  and  Elijah,  and  asked  them 
to  report  to  him  whatever  of  a  threatening  character 
Matpah  might  say  among  the  Indians.  They  prom- 
ised;  but  they  heard  nothing,  or  at  least  reported 
nothing. 

Matpah  kept  away  from  the  school  and  away  from 
Waiilatpu;  and  if  he  had  any  plans  of  revenge,  they 
seemed  to   have  been  dropped. 


CHAPTER    XIII 

THE   WOLF    MEETING 

PHIL    CURTIS    had   gone   out   to    his   wolf   trap, 
which   he  had  set  on  the  border  of  the  tall  rye 
grass,  a  mile  or  more  beyond  the  mission. 

The  wolves  had  come  down  from  the  Blue  Mountains 
of  Oregon  and  had  wrought  great  devastation  in  the 
flocks.  Scarcely  a  family  of  immigrants  but  had  suf- 
fered losses.  A  young  pony,  Cora  Carlton's  favorite, 
had  been  pulled  down  by  a  band  of  the  savage  brutes 
not  more  than  a  week  before,  and  Phil  himself  had  lost 
a  colt  which  had  been  slain  within  a  dozen  rods  of  the 
mission  house. 

Many  explanations  of  the  exceeding  boldness  of  the 
mountain  wolves  were  given.  One  was  that  they  found 
it  much  easier  to  pull  down  and  slay  a  calf  or  a  colt 
than  to  run  down  a  deer  or  some  other  fleet-footed 
creature  of  the  mountains.  The  result  of  their  raids 
was  a  bitter  and  deadly  war  waged  against  them 
throughout  the  valley  of  the  Walla  Walla  and  the 
whole  of  the  Oregon  country. 

135 


136  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

Phil's  wolf  trap  was  a  dead  fall  —  a  clumsy  structure 
of  poles  and  small  Cottonwood  logs  supported  by  a 
figure  4  trigger.  He  had  set  it  directly  in  the  game 
trail  that  came  from  the  hills  to  the  river,  for  up  and 
down  that  trail  he  had  more  than  once  seen  wolves 
passing. 

When  he  arrived  in  the  vicinity  of  the  trap,  he  saw 
that  it  was  unsprung,  as  he  had  left  it ;  yet  out  beyond 
it,  in  the  grass,  he  caught  sight  of  something  that  was 
sufficient  to  quicken  his  pulse. 

In  that  spot  a  cow  had  cleverly  hidden  her  young 
calf ;  for  the  habit  which  wild  animals  have  of  conceal- 
ing their  young  extends  in  many  instances  to  domestic 
animals  as  well ;  and  cattle  that  are  reared  on  the  plains 
or  in  the  mountains  in  a  semi-wild  state,  exhibit  this 
peculiarity  in  a  marked  degree.  This  cow  had  placed 
her  calf  in  the  tall  grass  close  by  the  trail,  where  it  had 
been  found  by  a  wolf. 

When  Phil  caught  sight  of  them,  the  hungry  brute 
had  been  driven  back  for  the  moment,  and  the  cow 
stood  with  lowered  horns  and  blazing  eyes,  her  whole 
being  surcharged  with  ferocity. 

Though  the  wolf  had  retreated  before  the  onslaught, 
it  had  not  given  up  its  purpose.  Alternately  crouching 
and  leaping  to  and  fro,  it  watched  for  an  opportunity  to 
spring  upon  the  calf,  while  the  mother,  equally  alert, 


HE   DASHED    COURAGEOUSLY    UPON    THE    BRUTE." 


THE   WOLF   MEETING  137 

opposed  every  threatening  movement  with  lowered 
head. 

Phil  did  not  await  the  result  of  the  contest.  He  gave 
a  shout  and  ran  forward  as  rapidly  as  he  could.  Un- 
fortunately, he  had  no  rifle  with  him ;  but  as  he  ran  he 
stooped  to  pick  up  a  club,  which  chanced  to  be  lying 
by  the  path,  and  swinging  this  and  again  shouting  he 
rushed  on. 

The  wolf  continued  to  leap  to  and  fro  in  front  of  the 
lowered  horns  of  the  cow.  Then,  as  it  suddenly  at- 
tempted to  get  by  her,  with  a  low  bellow  of  rage  she 
dashed  at  it,  and  but  for  its  exceeding  agility  would 
have  pinned  it  to  the  ground.  This  apparently  was  the 
opening  the  wolf  had  long  sought,  for  it  finally  suc- 
ceeded in  passing  the  cow  as  she  attempted  to  turn. 

Again  Phil  shouted,  filled  with  a  lively  sense  of  the 
peril  of  the  calf,  and  having  now  arrived  at  the  spot  he 
dashed  courageously  upon  the  brute  with  the  intention 
of  braining  it. 

The  wolf  turned  away  from  the  calf  and  sprang 
fiercely  at  the  throat  of  the  boy.  He  stumbled  back- 
ward, still  striking  with  the  club.  The  animal  dropped 
to  the  ground,  uninjured,  and  there  it  crouched,  its 
keen,  white  teeth  glittering  and  its  fierce  eyes  shining 
like  coals.  It  was  angered,  but  apparently  not  in  the 
least  frightened.      Meanwhile  the  cow  had   hurried  to 


138  A   COURIER   OF    EMPIRE 

the  calf,  obviously  with  the  intention  of  getting  it  away 
as  quickly  as  possible. 

Phil  put  back  his  hand  to  draw  his  knife,  but  before 
he  could  do  so  the  wolf  sprang  again,  and  he  was 
compelled  to  use  the  club  to  beat  it  off.  Attacked  yet 
again,  the  boy  retreated,  striking  fiercely,  and  striving  at 
the  same  time  to  get  out  his  hunting-knife,  which  he 
carried  in  a  leather  sheath  belted  to  his  waist. 

While  he  was  thus  forced  back  through  the  high 
grass,  still  thrusting  at  the  wolf,  there  came  to  his  ears 
the  agreeable  sound  of  rapidly  pounding  hoofs.  He 
heard  a  call,  in  a  familiar  voice,  but  without  pausing  to 
look  about  he  struck  again  at  the  wolf. 

Then  he  heard  the  hoof  falls  close  by  him,  heard 
words  shouted  at  him,  and  a  moment  later  an  arrow 
whizzed  by  his  ear. 

There  was  not  a  better  bowman  among  the  Indian 
boys  of  Oregon  than  Elijah,  the  son  of  Pio-pio-mox-mox, 
and  his  stiff  elkhorn  bow  had  driven  the  arrow  through 
the  heart  of  the  fierce  wolf  from  the  Blue  Mountains. 
He  uttered  a  wild  Indian  yell  of  triumph  and  slipped 
from  the  back  of  his  spotted  pony. 

The  wolf  tumbled  to  the  ground  and,  though  its 
vitality  was  great,  was  dead  in  a  few  minutes.  The 
cow  was  still  trying  to  coax  the  calf  away  from  what 
she  evidently  considered  a  dangerous   locality. 


THE   WOLF   MEETING  139 

"  That  was  good,"  said  Phil,  dropping  his  club  and 
standing  breathless  before  the  Indian  boy.  *'  If  you 
hadn't  come  up  just  as  you  did,  I  don't  know  but  it 
would  have  been  all  up  with  me  in  another  minute.  I 
never  saw  a  wolf  fight  as  that  one  did,  though  it  is  not 
the  first  time  I  have  had  trouble  with  wolves.  If  I 
hadn't  jumped  lively,  he  would  have  had  me  by  the 
throat." 

The  Indian  boy  beamed  with  delight.  It  pleased  him 
to  be  spoken  to  in  that  way  by  one  whom  he  regarded 
so  highly  as  Phil  Curtis.  Phil  was  his  ideal  white  boy 
and  his  long-time  friend. 

"  It  was  good,"  he  admitted.  "  'Way  off  there  I  saw 
you  fighting.  I  was  on  my  way  to  the  mission.  Do 
you   take  the   wolfskin,  or   do  we  ride  on.-^" 

"  We  will  take  the  skin,"  said  Phil ;  and  with  the 
assistance  of  Elijah  he  proceeded  to  strip  it  from  the 
body  of  the  slain  animal. 

The  boy  drew  out  his  arrow  very  carefully,  for  to  an 
Indian  of  that  place  and  time  an  arrow  was  a  valuable 
article. 

"  It  is  strange,"  said  Elijah,  looking  at  Phil  as  they 
were  engaged  in  the  work,  "but  I  come  to  you  to  tell 
you  of  the  wolf  meeting.  Pio-pio-mox-mox,  my  father, 
he  come,  too.  He  be  here  pretty  soon.  You  heard 
about  that  wolf  meeting  ? " 


I40  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

Phil  Curtis  was  obliged  to  confess  that  he  had  not 
heard  of  the  wolf  meeting,  whatever  it  might  be;  where- 
upon it  pleased  Elijah  to  be  able  to  explain  that  the 
settlers  of  Oregon  had  fixed  a  date  and  called  a  great 
meeting,  in  which  the  question  of  the  destruction  of  the 
wolves  that  were  ravaging  the  flocks  was  to  be  con- 
sidered. 

They  talked  of  the  coming  event  as  they  proceeded 
toward  the  mission  house,  Phil  walking  and  Elijah 
riding  his  pony.  It  was  to  be  a  great  meeting,  Elijah 
said,  a  wonderful  meeting ;  and  it  was  evident  that  he 
imagined  that  it  would  partake  in  large  measure  of  the 
quality  of  those  spectacular  Indian  councils  with  which 
he  was  familiar. 

"Another  big  news  I  bring  you,"  he  said,  as,  look- 
ing back,  he  saw  that  his  father  was  approaching.  "  It 
surprise  you  to  know  this  big  news." 

''What  is  it.?"  Phil  asked,  for  Elijah  had  a  provoking 
way  of  withholding  information. 

''Matpah  is  now  chief  of  his  Cayuse  band." 

Phil  turned  on  him  in  surprise. 

"  What  > " 

"  It  is  as  I  say  to  you.  Matpah  is  now  chief.  The 
old  chief  die  not  long  ago,  and  Matpah  become  chief  in 
his  place ;  and  that  mean  another  thing.  You  can  guess 
what  it  mean,  I  think." 


THE   WOLF  MEETIiNG  141 

"  I  do  not  want  to  guess  anything,"  said  Phil,  know- 
ing that  Elijah  referred  to  the  very  marked  interest 
which  Matpah  had  shown  in  Cora  Carlton. 

His  memory  harked  back  to  that  day  by  the  river, 
when,  leaping  upon  Matpah  almost  as  the  wolf  had 
sought  to  leap  on  him,  he  had  caught  the  Indian  youth 
by  the  throat,  and  had  thrown  him  into  the  water.  He 
had  felt  at  the  time  that  trouble  would  come  of  the  inci- 
dent, and  now,  with  this  news  that  Matpah  had  become 
chief  of  his  particular  Cayuse  band,  the  feehng  returned. 

Pio-pio-mox-mox  galloped  up  at  that  instant  and 
greeted  Phil  Curtis  gravely.  The  Yellow  Serpent  was 
a  fine-looking  Indian,  worthy  to  be  the  father  of  so 
splendid  a  youth  as  Elijah.  Both  were  dressed  that  day 
in  their  best.  Feathers  and  fringed  clothing  showed 
in  profusion;  but  there  was  no  paint  on  their  faces. 

"We  buy  cattle,"  said  Elijah,  with  pride. 

Phil  knew  how  the  fancy  of  the  Oregon  Indians  had 
been  drawn  to  the  horses,  cattle,  and  sheep  which  the 
first  and  later  immigrant  trains  had  brought  into  the 
country.  The  Cayuses  did  not  care  so  much  for 
the  horses  of  the  immigrants,  for  they  had  horses  of 
their  own ;  but  cattle  were  something  with  which  they 
had  not  been  famiHar,  and  they  bought  them  whenever 
they  could. 

Marcus  Whitman  greeted  the  Yellow  Serpent  and  his 


142       •  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

son  in  his  usual  genial  manner.  Mrs.  Whitman  also 
tried  to  make  the  Indian  chief  feel  that  he  was  one 
of  their  best  friends.  All  took  dinner  together  at 
the  mission  ;  and  after  some  advice  from  Marcus 
Whitman,  who  had  no  cattle  to  sell,  but  was  well  able 
to  counsel  in  such  a  matter,  the  chief  and  his  son  rode 
away. 

Doctor  Whitman  had  talked  much  with  Pio-pio-mox- 
mox  about  the  great  wolf  meeting,  which  was  to  be  held 
at  Champoeg.  He  knew  why  the  meeting  had  been  called 
better  than  the  Indian  chief  did.  The  American  settlers 
felt  that  they  were  without  means  of  protection  and  de- 
fence. They  could  not  rely  upon  the  men  of  the  Hudson 
Bay  Fur  Company  at  Fort  Vancouver  or  Walla  Walla, 
nor  upon  the  French  Canadians  and  mountain  trappers. 
They  did  not  feel  that  it  was  wise  to  call  a  meeting 
openly,  with  the  announced  intention  of  forming  some 
kind  of  government ;  but  upon  the  question  of  the  ex- 
termination of  the  wolves  all  could  unite,  and  when 
they  had  come  together  there  would  be  opportunity  for 
private  talk  over  many  things  that  were  now  uppermost 
in  the  minds  of  the  Americans  who  had  settled  in  Ore- 
gon. Hence  the  wolf  meeting  had  been  called,  to  meet 
at  Champoeg  in  the  spring. 

Marcus  Whitman  attended  that  meeting,  and  among 
those  with  him  were  Phil  Curtis  and  Ben  Allen,  an  ex- 


THE   WOLF   MEETING  i43 

ceptionally  lively  youth  from  the  state  of  Indiana,  who 
had  come  into  Oregon  not  long  before. 

The  French  Canadians  and  the  half-breed  trappers 
were  chattering  at  Champoeg  when  Marcus  Whitman 
and  his  companions  arrived.  It  was  on  the  first  Mon- 
day of  March,  in  the  year  1843,  and  it  is  said  that  every 
American  who  could  muster  a  boat  had  landed  at  old 
Champoeg  by  ten  o'clock  that  morning.  There,  in  the 
house  of  Joseph  Gervais,  they  held  their  meeting.  They 
talked  of  the  wolves  and  of  wolf  bounties,  and  laid 
elaborate  plans  for  the  destruction  of  this  enemy  of  the 
settlers  and  the  farmers.     All  could  agree  upon  that. 

Then  the  Americans,  French  voyageurs,  and  traders 
went  away.  When  May  came  they  again  assembled  at  old 
Champoeg.  At  the  previous  meeting  the  Americans 
had  talked  privately  with  each  other.  Wherever  the 
Anglo-Saxon  gathers,  one  of  the  first  things  that  he 
desires  is  an  orderly  government,  and  when  the  Ameri- 
cans came  together  again  with  the  trappers  and  the 
Hudson  Bay  men,  they  had  agreed  upon  a  report  which, 
in  its  substance,  was  the  foundation  of  the  government 

that  was  to  be. 

They  presented  that  report  to  the  May  meeting. 
Then  wild  discussion  arose.  All  of  the  Hudson  Bay 
men  were  against  it.  Some  of  the  trappers  were  against 
it,  while  others  were  for  it.     John  Curtis,  Phil's  father, 


144  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

led  the  American  trappers  who  favored  the  adoption 
of  the  report.  Tom  McKay,  who  was  called  a  Hudson 
Bay  trapper,  yet  who  really  could  be  said  to  pay 
allegiance  to  no  man,  seemed  to  halt  between  two 
opinions. 

The  discussion  ended,  and  the  time  for  voting  came. 
The  excitement  was  intense.  The  voyageurs  seemed  to 
be  marshalled  to  a  man  against  the  resolution. 

"  No  !  "  they  thundered,  when  a  vote  was  taken. 
The  chairman  was  about  to  declare  the  report  lost. 
In  the  midst  of  the  excitement  the  Americans  asked  for 
a  division.     Jo  Meek,  the  trapper,  was  the  first  to  step 
forward  and  demand  this. 

'*  Who's  for  a  divide  .?  "  he  called  out.  "  All  in  favor 
of  the  report  and  organization,  follow  me." 

He  stepped  out.  John  Curtis  followed.  Tom  McKay 
hesitated,  then  he  stepped  to  the  side  of  Curtis.  Whit- 
man and  his  companions  and  the  American  trappers 
joined  them  in  a  body. 

On  the  other  side  the  Hudson  Bay  men  ranged 
themselves. 

Then  a  great  yell  seemed  to  lift  the  very  roof,  for  the 
Americans  had  a  small  majority. 

"Three  cheers  for  Oregon  and  the  United  States  !  " 
some  one  cried. 

It  was  like  that  shot  fired  by  the  embattled  farmers  at 


THE   WOLF   MEETING  145 

Concord,  which  was  heard  round  the  world.  The  wolf 
meeting  had  been  transformed  into  an  organization 
of  government,  and  infant  Oregon  had  made  its 
appearance. 

As  Whitman's  party  rowed  away  from  Champoeg, 
descending  the  river  in  their  frail  boat,  Marcus  Whit- 
man's spirits  were  so  Hght  and  gay  that  he  was  almost 
hilarious. 

"  I  can  see  the  beginning  of  the  end  that  I  have 
worked  for,"  he  said,  measuring  the  future  with  the 
eye  of  prophecy. 

It  was  truly  the  beginning  of  the  end.  A  legislature 
was  chosen  not  long  afterward,  and  a  governor  elected, 
and  the  selected  capital  was  the  new  town  of  Oregon 
City.  Many  changes  were  to  occur,  many  things  were 
to  happen,  before  Oregon  became  really  a  part  of  the 
United  States.  America  was  to  be  brought  to  the  verge 
of  war  with  England.  Political  passions  were  to  rage. 
The  campaign  battle-cry  of  ''Fifty-Four  Forty,  or 
Fight !  "  was  to  be  upon  almost  every  American  lip.  In 
the  end  Oregon  was  to  become  a  territory  of  the  Union. 
But  before  that  end  came  in  its  fulness  there  were  to  be 
many  stirring  events,  many  thriUing  episodes,  and  many 
perilous  vicissitudes. 


CHAPTER   XIV 

UMTIPPI,   THE    MEDICINE    MAN 

OLD  Pio-pio-mox-mox  and  Elijah  came  again  to  the 
mission  one  day,  dressed  as  if  out  for  a  holiday 
jaunt. 

"  We  go  again  to  buy  cattle,"  said  Elijah,  with  his 
proud  smile.     '*  We  go  a  long  way  this  time." 

Elijah  had  grown  into  a  tall,  slender  youth,  of  quick 
intelHgence  and  animated  character.  He  was  one  of 
the  finest  of  the  Indian  youths  of  Oregon,  and  Phil 
Curtis  had  grown  to  like  him  very  much. 

The  Yellow  Serpent  sat  smiling  on  his  pony  beside 
his  son,  of  whom  he  was  intensely  proud.  Elijah  was 
educated  in  the  white  man's  ways,  and  to  the  Yellow 
Serpent  he  was  wise  almost  beyond  the  limits  of 
wisdom. 

"  Yes,  we  go  a  long  way,"  said  Elijah,  making  his 
announcement  to  the  Whitmans  and  to  Phil  Curtis 
before  the  mission  door.  "  We  go  'way  off,  to  Calif orny, 
to  buy  many  cattle." 

As  before,  Whitman  talked  with  them  ;  and  they  took 

146 


UMTIPPI,  THE   MEDICINE   MAN  147 

dinner  with  him  again,  and  were  served  with  the  best 
that  the  mission  afforded.     Then  they  departed. 

Phil  Curtis  watched  EHjah  as  he  rode  away  with  his 
father  that  afternoon,  thinking  how  splendid  his  young 
friend  looked  in  his  Indian  finery  as  he  sat  on  the  back 
of  his  spotted  pony  ;  and  long  afterward  he  was  given 
cause  to  recall  how  well  Elijah  appeared,  how  handsome 
and  brave,  that  afternoon. 

It  was  some  time  after  this  departure  of  Pio-pio-mox- 
mox  and  Elijah  that  Cora  Carlton  came  to  Phil,  showing 
a  troubled  face. 

"Two  of  my  best  pupils  left  me  to-day,"  she  an- 
nounced. "They  are  the  daughters  of  that  chief  who 
made  a  speech    to  the    Sunday-school  a  month  or  so 

ago." 

He  looked  at  her  gravely. 

"  Why  did  they  leave  ?  " 

''  Measles  has  broken  out  in  that  Cayuse  band." 

"  If  that  is  so,  they  will  be  going  right  into  it.  They 
ought  to  have  stayed  here." 

"That's  what  I  said  to  them;  but  the  Indians  think 
the  disease  was  contracted  from  the  white  people,  and 
that  the  thing  to  do  is  to  get  away  from  here  as  soon  as 
possible.  I  tried  to  reason  with  the  girls,  but  I  couldn't 
do  anything  with  them.     They  were  too  much  scared." 

Measles  had  broken  out  in  a  number  of  the  Indian 


148  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

villages.  Whitman  was  much  distressed.  Though  he 
could  not  credit  all  that  was  told  him,  it  was  reported 
that  the  Cayuses  and  Nez  Perces  were  dying,  like  flies, 
of  diseases  imported  by  the  whites.  It  was  claimed, 
too,  that  before  the  coming  of  the  immigrants  from  across 
the  mountains,  the  Indians  of  Oregon  had  enjoyed  a 
high  degree  of  health.  Whitman  knew  better  than  this, 
for  he  was  a  physician  and  had  given  much  of  his  time 
to  professional  work  among  these  very  Indians. 

That  first  immigrant  train  had  been  followed  by 
others.  Long  and  toilsome  marches  over  mountains 
and  deserts,  exposure  to  inclement  weather,  the  strain 
of  alarms  and  of  wearisome  watches  against  savage 
foes,  together  with  a  cruel  lack  of  good  water  and 
sufficient  food,  had  bred  and  fostered  disease  in  these 
companies  of  white  people.  There  was  much  sickness 
on  the  way,  and  even  after  the  promised  land  of  Oregon 
was  gained.  Some  of  these  diseases,  like  measles,  had 
spread  among  the  Indians. 

The  panic  in  the  school  grew.  Soon  Timuitti  came 
to  Phil,  greatly  frightened. 

"  Good-by,  Boston  brother,"  he  cried. 

He  stood  off  from  Phil  and  would  not  extend  his 
hand. 

"  Not  going  to  leave  us .? "  said  Phil. 

"Yes,  me  go.     Others  go,  too;   many  others.     Bad 


UMTIPPI,  THE   MEDICINE   MAN  149 

spirits  working  among  Boston  people,  making   Indian 
sick.     Indian  git  sick  and  die.     Me  no  stay  here  and 

git  sick." 

''  There  is  no  sickness  here,  Timuitti,"  Phil  declared. 
"  You  will  be  safer  here  than  anywhere  else." 

But  Timuitti  was  not  to  be  quieted  so  easily. 

-Bad  spirits  working,"   he  insisted.     "Me  no  stay. 
Timuitti  no  want  to  die  now." 

And  he  departed. 

The  scare  almost  emptied  the  school. 

Reports  coming  in  showed'  that  the  disease,  treated 
in  the  Indian  fashion,  was  proving  in  many  cases  fatal. 
Then  Whitman  went  out  into  the  villages,  administering 
to  the  sick.  Sometimes  they  took  his  medicines,  some- 
times they  did  not.  In  either  case,  too  often,  as  soon  as 
he  was  gone,  the  Indian  doctors  and  conjurers  were 
called  in.  Then  the  treatment  he  had  prescribed  was 
disregarded,  resulting   frequently  in  the   death  of   the 

patient. 

"Doct'    Whit'n    killing    the    Indians,"    wailed    old 

Waskema. 

"Ay,    I    warned    you,"   reminded    Delaware    Tom. 
-This  is  their  plan  to  destroy  you.     They  want  your 

lands." 

"It   is   as  I  said,"  whispered  Dorion.     "I  told  you 
they  wanted  this  Indian  country.     They  are  bewitching 


I50  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

you.  They  have  let  many  bad  spirits  loose  among  you. 
Soon  all  the  Indians  will  be  dead,  and  then  the  Bostons 
will  have  the  country." 

In  the  midst  of  this  confusion  and  alarm,  when  it 
seemed  that  matters  could  not  be  much  worse,  Marcus 
Whitman  came  to  Phil,  bringing  with  him  Ben  Allen. 

"  I  have  been  talking  with  Ben,"  he  said,  "  and  he  has 
agreed  to  go  up  among  the  Indians  and  do  what  he  can 
to  help  them,  if  you  will  go  with  him.  Neither  of  you 
are  doctors,  I  know ;  but  both  of  you  have  had  measles, 
so  will  be  immune,  and  I  can  give  you  some  medicines 
and  instructions.  Whatever  you  do,  you  cannot  possi- 
bly do  much  worse  than  those  Indian  medicine  men. 
They  are  simply  killing  all  those  who  fall  sick." 

Ben  Allen,  who  had  come  with  a  recent  immigrant 
party,  and  therefore  was  to  a  considerable  extent  a 
stranger  in  the  land,  hailed  with  delight  this  opportunity 
to  ride  into  the  hills  of  Oregon ;  and  he  knew  that  in 
such  a  journey  he  could  have  no  better  companion  than 
Phil  Curtis,  who  for  so  many  years  had  been  a  trapper 
boy  in  the  great  mountains. 

So,  taking  all  the  medicines  which  Whitman  could 
spare,  the  two  rode  forth  one  day  to  the  nearest  Indian 
village. 

It  was  the  village  of  Stikine,  one  of  the  Cayuse  chiefs. 
At  the  entrance  they  were  met  by  old  Waskema.     She 


UMTIPPI,  THE   MEDICINE   MAN  151 

supported  herself  on  her  crooked,  knotted  staff,  and 
peered  at  them  from  under  the  tangle  of  her  matted  hair. 
With  one  withered  hand  she  waved  them  away. 

**  The  curse  of  Waskema  rest  on  you  ! "  she  croaked 
in  the  Indian  tongue,  which  Phil  so  well  understood. 
"  You  have  said  that  you  are  a  Cayuse,  that  your 
heart  is  red,  though  your  face  is  white.  Your  heart 
is  black  —  black !  You  bottle  up  the  spirits  down 
there  at  Waiilatpu.  I  saw  you.  When  I  was  there, 
I  saw  you.  You  put  them  in  bottles,  and  Doct'  Whit'n 
takes  them  and  goes  to  where  the  Indians  are  sick. 
He  makes  the  Indians  drink  of  those  bottles  and 
then  the  Indians  die.  It  is  witchcraft.  It  is  murder. 
Doct'  Whit'n  is  killing  the  Indians.  You  are  Doct' 
Whit'n's  friends.     Go  !  go  !  go  !  " 

She  waved  her  skinny  arm. 

Phil  urged  his  pony  nearer  and  sought  to  reason 
with  her.  He  tried  to  tell  her  that  what  she  had 
seen  him  put  into  bottles  was  medicine  —  the  white 
man's  medicine,  which,  if  rightly  administered,  would 
cure  diseases  —  would  cure  the  Indians.  She  would 
not  listen  to  him. 

''Your  heart  is  black!"  she  shrieked.  ''Your  words 
are  lies !  Your  breath  spreads  disease  !  You  call 
yourself  the  white  Cayuse,  but  your  heart  is 
black  ! 


152  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

Back  in  the  village  the  boys  heard  a  low  wailing. 

"  Another  has  died  even  since  you  came,"  said 
Waskema,  dramatically.  "You  breathed  toward  the 
lodge  where  the  sick  man  lay,  and  now  he  is  dead. 
It  is  his  squaw  that  wails.     Go !  go  !  go  !  " 

"  Go  !  go  !  "  was  yelled  at  the  boys  from  the  village. 

It  seemed  imprudent  to  ride  farther.  Nevertheless, 
Phil  ventured  to  do  so.  He  knew  the  Indian  nature. 
Had  he  not  spent  years  in  the  villages  and  lodges 
of  the  Indians  ?  So,  though  Waskema  waved  him 
back,  and  voices  from  the  lodges  cried  to  him  to 
go,  he  rode  farther  on,  and  then    quietly  dismounted. 

Ben  Allen  was  not  a  little  alarmed,  and  his  freckled, 
almost  comical,  face  showed  it. 

"  I  don't  think  I  like  this  at  all,"  he  said,  glancing 
about  rather  wild-eyed.  "  I  came  up  here  to  doctor 
Indians,  though  I'm  no  doctor;  but  I  tell  you  I  didn't 
come  up  here  to  be  killed ! " 

Phil  smiled  at  him. 

"  I'm  hoping  we'll  find  that  their  bark  is  a  good 
deal  worse  than  their  bite.  Of  course  old  Waskema 
hates  every  white  person.  She  would  drive  every 
one  of  us  out  of  the  country  or  kill  us.  I  don't 
doubt  that.  But  Stikine,  the  chief,  has  been  a  friend 
to  my  father  in  the  past ;  so  I  think  we  will  risk 
staying  here." 


UMTIPPI,  THE   MEDICINE   MAN  153 

The  boys  tied  their  ponies.  When  they  looked 
about,  they  saw  here  and  there  a  dark  Indian  face 
peering  at  them  from  some  lodge,  but  only  old 
Waskema  stood  out  in  the  open.  She  was  shaking 
with  rage,  and  was  mumbling  her  impotent  hate, 
while  still  clasping  the  knotted  stick  and  peering 
at  them  with  her  burning  eyes. 

''  If  there  ever  was  a  witch  that  old  woman  is  one," 
said  Ben,  with  a  little  shiver. 

Ben  Allen  was  by  nature  jovial  and  jolly,  but  he 
did  not  see  anything  of  a  jovial  or  jolly  character 
in  his  present  situation.  He  saw  only  a  foreboding 
of  peril,  and  was  already  wishing  himself  well  out 
of  the  scrape  he  felt  he  was  in. 

There  was  a  movement  at  the  farther  end  of  the 
little  cluster  of  Cayuse  lodges,  and  old  Stikine  came 
into  view.  Phil  Curtis  was  glad  to  see  the  old  chief, 
and  approached  him  without  reserve. 

"We  were  sent  up  here  by  Doctor  Whitman  to 
aid  your  people,  good  Stikine,"  he  said;  and  then 
went  on  to  explain  more  fully  the  nature  of  his 
errand,  at  the  same  time  displaying  some  of  the 
medicines  which  Whitman  had  sent. 

Old  Stikine  drew  back  somewhat  startled  when  he 
beheld  the  bottles.  He  remembered  Waskema's  claim 
that  Doct'  Whit'n   placed   bad  spirits   in   bottles   and 


154  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

sent  them  forth  to  the  Cayuses.  He  looked  at  the 
medicines  and  was  almost  afraid. 

"Come  with  me,"  he  said  at  last,  when  Phil  repeated 
the  message  given  by  Whitman.  '*  Umtippi,  the  medi- 
cine man,  is  in  the  lodge  over  there.  One  of  the 
younger  chiefs  is  sick.  He  has  the  great  disease,  which 
it  is  said  the  white  people  brought  into  Oregon." 

It  was  not  exactly  an  invitation,  but  it  was  enough. 
Phil  passed  old  Stikine  and  entered  the  lodge.  The 
medicine  man  turned  about  and  stared  at  him  gravely. 
Umtippi  was  not  arrayed  in  his  sorcerer's  garb  at 
the  time.  Only  a  little  while  before  he  had  put  out 
of  the  lodge  the  relatives  of  this  young  chief,  and 
he  had  been  bending  over  the  sick  man  when  Phil 
entered.  Apparently  he  was  disturbed  and  dis- 
pleased. 

Ben  Allen,  who  was  just  outside  the  lodge,  heard 
Phil  explaining  to  Umtippi  why  he  was  there.  Then 
Waskema  slipped  in  by  him,  and  he  heard  her  talk- 
ing in  a  wild  and  excited  way  to  the  medicine  man. 
A  moment  later  Phil  came  out. 

"  Stikine  is  not  unwilling  to  help  us,  if  only  he 
can  feel  that  it  is  safe  for  him  to  do  so,  but  he  is 
afraid  of  Umtippi  and  Waskema.  This  subchief  has 
not  been  sick  a  great  while,  I  think,  and  the  medicine 
man  has  been  called   in   to   see   what   he   can  do    for 


UMTIPPI,  THE   MEDICINE   MAN  155 

him.     He  will  give  him  a  sweat,  probably,  and   then 
go  through  some  kind  of  conjuring  mummery." 

Phil  walked  slowly  away  from  the  lodge,  which  now 
held  old  Waskema  and  the  medicine  man,  and  into 
which  almost  immediately  Stikine  entered.  He  began 
to  fear  that  he  had  made  a  mistake  in  coming  into 
the  village  at  all,  and  that  perhaps  it  would  be  the 
part  of  wisdom  to  leave  at  once.  He  said  as  much 
to  Ben,  as  they  walked  on  toward  their  ponies. 

''The  Indians  are  very  suspicious,  as  you  see,"    he 
remarked.      "  If    you   will   look,    without    seeming    to 
glance  about,  you  will  notice  that  we  are  being  watched 
from   every  lodge.     The    Indians    believe  that   Doctor 
Whitman  is  a  medicine  man ;  not  a  doctor,  as  we  under- 
stand it,  but  a  conjurer,  —  one  who  deals  in  witchcraft, 
sorcery,  and  incantations.     They  think  that  when  an 
Indian  falls  sick  some  medicine  man,  or  some  evil  spirit, 
or  some  person  who  hates  him,  has  cast  a  spell  over 
him.     To    drive  away  that  spell  the  medicine  man   is 
called  in.     The  Cayuses  believe  the  white  people  have 
been  casting  spells  on  them.     The  Indians  did  not  have 
the  measles,  and  these  other  troubles,  before  the  white 
men  came.      So,  looking  at  it  from  their  standpoint,  it 
can  be  seen  how  easily  they  may  be  willing  to  think 
these  sicknesses    are   the   results    of    spells   which  the 
white  men  have  worked  against  them." 


156  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

''  I  think  I  can  see  that  we  had  better  get  out  of 
here,"  said  Ben  Allen.  "  I  Hke  a  little  fun,  and  I  like  a 
little  adventure,  but  this  is  altogether  too  much  fun  and 
adventure  for  me." 

But  Phil  Curtis,  having  undertaken  to  do  something 
for  these  Indians  at  the  urgent  request  of  Doctor  Whit- 
man, was  not  ready  to  confess  so  quickly  that  he  was 
beaten.     So  he  remained. 

That  evening  he  was  given  encouragement  by  the 
arrival  of  his  foster-father,  Tilskit.  Tilskit  was  as- 
signed a  lodge  by  Stikine,  and  he  invited  Phil  Curtis, 
whom  he  called  his  son,  to  share  this  lodge  with  him. 
So  both  Phil  and  Ben  Allen  found  shelter  in  the 
unfriendly  village ;  for,  of  course,  wherever  Phil  went 
Ben  went  also. 

That  night  it  was  given  out  that  Umtippi,  the  medi- 
cine man,  was  to  make  a  grand  effort  to  drive  away  the 
spirit  which  troubled  the  young  chief.  Tilskit  said 
that  he  intended  to  be  present  with  Stikine  in  the  lodge 
of  the  sick  man  at  the  time,  and  that  if  Phil  desired  to 
accompany  him  it  would  be  perfectly  safe  for  him  to  do 
so,  under  his  protection. 

The  lodge  was  filled  with  the  wailing  friends  of  the 
chief,  when  Tilskit,  and  his  foster-son,  and  his  son's 
companion,  Ben  Allen,  followed  Stikine  into  the  lodge, 
which  had  been  converted  into  a  medicine  lodge. 


UMTIPPI,  THE   MEDICINE   MAN  157 

Umtippi  was  arrayed  most  fantastically.  He  had  on 
a  gorgeous  medicine  robe  of  elkskin,  which  depended 
from  his  shoulders  and  dragged  on  the  ground  as  he 
walked.  His  leggings  and  his  deerskin  shirt  fairly 
glittered  with  painted  quills,  beads,  and  shining  stones. 
He  stood  by  the  skin  cot  on  which  the  sick  man  rested. 
In  his  right  hand  he  held  his  medicine  bag  of  snake- 
skin,  filled  with  pebbles,  which  gave  forth  a  rattUng 
sound  when  he  shook  it.  In  his  left  hand  he  carried  a 
tambourine-like  drum,  on  which  he  thumped  at  inter- 
vals. Thus  drumming,  rattUng  the  snakeskin,  and 
chanting  rhythmically,  the  medicine  man  executed  jerky 
evolutions,  circHng  and  hopping  to  and  fro  about  the 
cot,  shrieking  out  at  times. 

The  wilder  the  gyrations  of  the  medicine  man  became, 
the  higher  rose  the  wailing  of  the  assembled  friends  and 
relatives.  Umtippi  was  making  this  a  great  test  of  his 
ability  as  a  conjurer.  To  a  certain  degree  he  believed 
in  himself,  and  in  the  efficacy  of  his  practice ;  yet  that 
there  was  a  deep  basis  of  hypocrisy  and  humbuggery 
was  made  apparent  before  the  performance  ended. 

Understanding  well  the  Cayuse  language,  Phil  Curtis 
listened  attentively  to  the  mumbhng  of  Umtippi.  The 
medicine  man  claimed  that  he  had  discovered  the  source 
of  the  sickness  which  troubled  the  chief.  A  white  man 
had  transformed  himself  into  a  weasel,  and  had  insin- 


158  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

uated  himself  into  the  very  vitals  of  the  chief.  If  that 
weasel  could  be  driven  out,  the  chief  would  recover.  If 
it  could  not  be  driven  out,  the  chief  would  die. 

That  Umtippi,  like  Waskema,  hated  the  white  men 
violently,  and  wished  to  create  against  them  a  feeUng 
of  enmity,  was  quite  evident  to  Phil  Curtis  when  he 
understood  what  he  was  saying. 

The  gyrations  and  dramatic  pantomime,  the  shaking 
of  the  snakeskin,  and  the  thumping  of  the  tambourine 
drum,  grew  constantly  louder  and  wilder,  and  louder 
and  wilder  rose  the  wails  of  the  young  chief's  relatives 
and  friends. 

Suddenly,  at  the  very  pinnacle  of  his  performance, 
the  medicine  man  dropped  to  the  ground,  shrieking 
and  raving.  The  mourning  relatives  screamed  in  their 
excitement.  The  medicine  man  thrust  his  long  arms 
under  the  skins  that  covered  the  cot.  His  lips  foamed 
and  his  eyes  rolled.  He  appeared  to  be  engaged  in  a 
terrible  struggle.  Then,  with  a  yell  of  triumph,  he 
drew  from  beneath  the  robes  which  covered  the  chief 
the  body  of  a  weasel.  Rising  with  this  in  his  hands  he 
threw  it  to  the  ground.  Then  he  leaped  upon  it,  and 
stamped  it  into  the  very  earth,  screaming  out  his  hate, 
rage,  and  triumph. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  this  performance,  star- 
tling and  even  terrible  though  it  may  seem,  produced  a 


UMTIPPI,  THE   MEDICINE   MAN  159 

strong  effect  upon  the  sick  man,  who  believed  implic- 
itly in  Umtippi ;  and  if  there  is  such  a  thing  as  the 
mind  controlling  disease,  there  can  be  little  doubt  that 
this  dramatic  climax  would  have  a  favorable  influence. 

Ben  Allen,  who  had  been  greatly  astonished  by  what 
he  saw,  though  he  did  not  understand  a  word  of  what 
he  heard,  was  staring  into  the  sick  man's  eyes ;  and  he 
saw  the  young  chief  rise  from  his  cot  and  glare  at  the 
weasel,  which  the  medicine  man  was  stamping  into 
the  earth.  He  heard  the  sick  man  yell  almost  as 
loudly  and  dramatically  as  Umtippi  himself.  Then 
he  saw  him  fall  back  in  an  exhausted  and  fainting 
condition. 

''  You  see  what  we  have  to  contend  with,"  said  Phil 
to  Ben  when  they  were  once  more  together  in  the  lodge 
which  they  were  occupying  with  Tilskit.  ''  That  weasel 
which  the  medicine  man  dragged  forth  represented 
some  white  man  who  is  supposed  by  these  Indians  to 
have  bewitched  the  sick  chief." 

"  But  where  did  it  come  from  ? "  Ben  asked,  for  the 
thing  had  puzzled  him. 

"  From  under  the  robes  on  the  cot,  of  course.  Old 
Umtippi  slid  it  in  there  before  he  began  his  conjuring 
performance ;  but  you  can  never  make  an  Indian  be- 
lieve that  he  did  anything  of  the  kind." 

"  Do  you  think  the  chief  will  get  well } " 


i6o  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

"  That  is  to  be  seen.  He  may  get  well,  and  he  may 
not ;  but  whether  he  does  or  not  will  not  depend  upon 
anything  that  Umtippi  has  done.  If  he  dies,  though, 
I  think  there  will  be  trouble  for  Umtippi.  From  what 
Tilskit  and  Stikine  say,  he  made  a  test  case  of  this 
young  chiefs  sickness.  That  shows,  at  any  rate,  that 
he  beUeved  from  the  first  that  the  chief  would  get  well. 
If  the  chief  dies,  it  may  go  hard  with  him." 

**  Why  so  ?     How  is  that  ?  " 

"The  conjurer  himself  may  be  killed.  It  has  been 
done  before  among  these  Indians,  and  it  may  be  done 
again." 

Ben  Allen  looked  at  Phil  earnestly  and  uneasily. 

"  Say,"  he  said,  ''  you're  not  fooling  about  that  ? " 

"Not  in  the  least." 

"Then  all  I  can  say  is  that  I  don't  care  to  try  to 
doctor  Indians.  I  am  not  a  doctor,  anyway  ;  but  I  was 
willing  to  do  what  I  could  just  to  please  Whitman,  and 
because  I  thought  it  would  be  fun  to  take  a  trip  to  the 
Indian  villages.  What  if  we  should  fail  now  ?  What 
if  we  should  give  medicine  to  one  of  these  Indians  to 
try  to  cure  him,  and  then  he  dies  ? " 

Instead  of  answering  promptly,  Phil  looked  steadily 
at  the  lodge  door. 

"  I  will  talk  to  Tilskit  and  Stikine  about  that.  Any- 
way, I  am  afraid  we  shall  have  to  take  some  risk." 


CHAPTER   XV 

PRISONERS   IN    AN   INDIAN   VILLAGE 

THE  next  morning  Tilskit  departed  from  the  vil- 
lage of  Stikine.  But  before  he  went  away  he 
had  a  long  talk  with  Phil,  in  which  he  expressed  his 
belief  that  the  boys  had  not  much  to  fear,  though  he 
was  equally  sure  the  Indians  would  not  permit  them 
to  come  into  competition  with  the  medicine  man  as  a 
doctor.  He  also  said  he  had  talked  with  Stikine,  and 
that  Stikine  had  promised  to  permit  Phil  and  Ben  to 
remain  in  that  lodge  so  long  as  they  wished  to  stay  in 
the  village.  At  the  same  time  he  advised  them  not  to 
remain,  for  he  believed  they  could  do  no  good,  and 
harm  might  come  to  them  from  it  in  the  end. 

"You  have  sick  in  your  village,"  said  Phil.  "We 
can  go  there." 

Tilskit  looked  displeased. 

"No!"  he  said,  and  he  said  it  emphatically.  "My 
Cayuses  would  not  like  that.  It  is  true  we  have  some 
that  are  sick,  but  our  medicine  men  can  make  them 
well.     If  they  cannot,  then  they  must  die.     If  it  is  the 

i6i 


i62  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

will  of  the  Great  Spirit,  they  will  die,  and  no  one  can 
hinder." 

This  conversation  was  held  with  Tilskit  in  the  Cayuse 
language ;  and  though  Ben  Allen  sat  by  and  Hstened, 
he  understood  not  a  word;  but  when  Tilskit  was 
gone,  Phil  acquainted  him  with  what  the  chief  had 
said. 

"  In  some  things  Tilskit  is  just  like  all  the  other 
Cayuses,"  was  Phil's  statement.  "  He  thinks  he  is 
more  civilized.  He  calls  himself  a  Christian,  and  has 
united  with  Whitman's  church  down  at  the  mission ; 
but  you  see  he  is  just  as  superstitious  as  he  ever  was. 
He  still  believes  in  the  power  of  the  medicine  men  ;  or, 
if  he  does  not  believe  in  their  power,  he  is  afraid  of 
them,  and  that  amounts  to  nearly  the  same  thing  so  far 
as  we  are  concerned." 

"A  nice  sort  of  father  you've  got,"  said  Ben  Allen, 
wrinkling  his  homely  face  in  a  smile. 

Ben  Allen  was  truly  a  homely  lad.  He  always 
spoke  of  himself  as  "the  unhandsomest  boy  that  ever 
came  out  of  Indianny."  His  mouth  was  wide,  his  nose 
long,  his  eyes  of  a  light  color,  and  his  hair  carroty ; 
but,  in  spite  of  his  appearance,  he  was  pure  gold.  He 
had  a  big  heart  in  his  big  body.  He  could  laugh  and 
joke,  and  he  could  romp  and  play ;  but  he  had  serious 
times,  and  he  was  always  as  true  as  steel. 


PRISONERS   IN   AN    INDIAN   VILLAGE         163 

"I  think  a  good  deal  of  my  Indian  father,"  said  Phil, 
in  reply.  "  He  has  his  faults,  like  all  these  Indians. 
Still,  I  think  he  is  the  best  Cayuse  I  ever  knew,  with 
perhaps  the  exception  of  his  son,  Timuitti.  I  wish 
Timuitti  were  here  now,  for  I  should  like  to  talk  with 
him." 

After  further  consideration  of  the  question  that  was 
now  before  them,  the  boys  decided  that  they  would 
hold  in  abeyance  their  desire  to  do  something  for  the 
sick  in  Stikine's  village. 

"  We  will  try  to  gain  the  good-will  of  these  Indians 
first,"  said  Phil.  ''Then  later,  when  they  see  that  we 
mean  well,  perhaps  they  will  let  us  do  something.  We 
are  not  doctors;  but  surely  we  could  do  better,  if  we 
followed  Whitman's  instructions,  than  that  old  medicine 
man,  Umtippi." 

As  the  boys  walked  about  the  village,  after  the  de- 
parture of  Tilskit,  they  noticed  that  wherever  they 
went  they  were  closely  observed. 

When  they  returned  to  the  lodge  which  had  been  set 
apart  for  Tilskit,  and  which  was  now  theirs  to  use,  they 
were  unpleasantly  surprised  to  discover  that  their  guns, 
which  they  had  left  there,  had  disappeared.  Phil  had 
also  left  behind  his  hunting-knife  attached  to  his  belt, 
and  that  was  gone  too. 

Ben  Allen  made  a  wry  face. 


i64  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

"  It  is  a  good  thing  I  had  my  knife  in  my  pocket,  or 
I  reckon  they  would  have  taken  that." 

He  drew  it  out  —  a  strong  jack-knife  with  two 
blades. 

"  Keep  it  out  of  sight,"  said  Phil.  "  These  Indians 
intend  to  strip  us.  The  disappearance  of  our  guns  has 
a  bad  look  to  me." 

They  were  still  further  disturbed  when  they  found 
that  their  ponies  had  been  led  away  and  turned  loose 
with  the  herd  of  Indian  ponies,  which  was  guarded  by 
some  Cayuse  warriors. 

"  May  we  take  our  ponies  .? "  Phil  asked,  approach- 
ing the  herd. 

The  herders  waved  them  back. 

"  See  Stikine,"  they  said. 

When  Phil  saw  Stikine  a  little  later,  he  obtained  no 
satisfaction.  The  chief  hesitated,  then  prevaricated, 
then  lied  outright. 

*'They  are  not  your  ponies,"  he  declared. 

Phil  interpreted  this  to  Ben  Allen. 

"But  they  are  our  ponies!"  Ben  asserted  rather 
warmly.  **  Don't  I  know  our  ponies?  They  were 
right  there  in  the  midst  of  the  others.  What  does  he 
mean  by  that  .'*  " 

Phil  did  not  answer  until  they  were  at  some  distance 
from  Stikine's  lodge. 


PRISONERS   IN   AN   INDIAN   VILLAGE         165 

"  The  meaning  is  that  we  are  not  to  be  permitted  to 
leave." 

Ben  looked  at  Phil  with  something  like  dismay  show- 
ing in  his  homely  face. 

"  Then  we  are  prisoners  ?  " 

"  It  begins  to  look  like  it." 

To  test  the  matter,  he  walked  with  Ben  to  the  farther 
end  of  the  village.  When  they  tried  to  pass  out  into 
the  hills,  they  found  they  were  not  to  be  permitted  to  do 
so.  Two  stalwart  Indians,  who  had  been  lounging  not 
far  away,  rose  up  with  weapons  in  their  hands  and 
motioned  them  back. 

Phil  returned  toward  the  lane  of  lodges,  and  Ben 
followed  him. 

"The  only  thing  to  do,"  he  said,  "is  to  pretend  that 
we  are  not  anxious  to  get  away." 

"  We  ought  to  have  gone  away  yesterday,  when  that 
old  hag  told  us  to !  " 

"  But  we  didn't.  We  thought  we  were  doing  right 
to  stay.  Whitman  would  have  wanted  us  to  stay. 
Now  we  will  have  to  remain,  whether  we  wish  to  or 
not,  until —  " 

"Until  what?" 

"Until  we  can  get  our  guns,  recapture  our  ponies, 
and  escape  by  night." 

"  Not  to-night  ?  " 


i66  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

*'  No,  it  may  be  quite  a  while  before  we  can  get 
away.     We  shall  have  to  use  patience." 

Phil  Curtis  was  even  less  pleased  with  the  situation 
than  he  was  willing  to  confess  to  Ben.  Still,  he  hoped 
that  Tilskit  would  return  soon,  or  that  some  other  friend 
would  arrive.  Because  he  was  the  adopted  son  of  a 
chief  so  well  known  as  Tilskit,  he  did  not  really  fear 
that  immediate  harm  would  come  to  him  or  his  com- 
panion ;  but  with  Waskema  raging  against  the  whites, 
and  all  the  other  Indian  enemies  of  the  settlers  mouth- 
ing their  anger,  what  the  outcome  would  be  Phil  was 
not  prepared  to  say. 

Stepping  up  to  a  small  tree  with  swinging  branches, 
he  asked  Ben  Allen  to  let  him  have  the  knife.  Ben 
took  it  from  his  pocket  and  passed  it  to  him.  Phil  cut 
off  a  stout  branch  that  was  free  of  knots,  and  sitting 
down  began  to  whittle  at  it. 

"  What  are  you  doing  .?  "  Ben  asked. 

"  I  think  I  shall  make  a  bow  and  then  some  arrows. 
They  may  come  in  handy,  since  our  guns  are  gone. 
I  have  been  thinking  that  if  we  are  not  watched  too 
closely,  we  can  slip  out  into  the  hills  some  dark  night, 
and  on  foot  make  our  way  back  to  the  mission.  But 
that  is  not  the  chief  reason  why  I  am  whittling  at  this 
stick  of  wood.  If  we  are  quiet,  and  seem  to  be  con- 
tented, the  Indians  will  not  watch  us  so  closely." 


PRISONERS   IN    AN    INDIAN    VILLAGE         167 

The  situation  seemed  a  most  peculiar  one  to  Ben 
Allen.  He  had  never  contemplated  anything  just 
like  it.  He  felt  that  he  was  a  prisoner  in  this  Cayuse 
village,  yet  he  was  at  liberty  to  walk  about  and  do 
pretty  much  as  he  pleased,  so  long  as  he  did  not  try 
to  leave. 

Phil  began  to  talk  about  bow-making  and  about  ar- 
rows :  how  the  arrows  were  feathered,  tipped,  grooved, 
and  ornamented,  saying  that  the  bows  and  arrows  of 
each  tribe  differed  materially  in  make  and  appearance ; 
so  that  any  one  familiar  with  such  things  could,  on 
seeing  an  Indian  bow  or  arrow,  tell  what  tribe  the 
maker  belonged  to. 

"You  remember  that  bow  of  elkhorn  with  which 
Elijah  shot  the  wolf?"  he  said.  "That  was  made  by 
the  Crows.  Elijah  bought  it  of  a  Crow,  and  paid  for 
it  with  beaver  skins." 

Then  he  recalled  to  Ben  Allen  the  peculiarities  of 
that  wonderful  elkhorn  bow,  which  had  been  the  pride 
of  Elijah's  heart.  It  had  been  made  of  thin  strips  of 
elkhorn,  joined  and  glued  together,  highly  poHshedand 
ornamented.  It  was  very  stiff  and  hard  to  bend,  but 
in  the  hands  of  a  strong  and  practised  bowman  Hke 
Elijah  it  was  a  marvellous  weapon,  abb  to  hurl  an 
arrow  a  distance  of  four  hundred  yards. 

He  told   Ben   that  the   Sioux  made  a  bow  of  horn 


i68  A   COURIER   OF    EMPIRE 

which  is  also  very  strong ;  and  that  both  the  Sioux 
and  the  Cheyennes  strengthen  their  bows  by  strips  of 
sinew  which  they  glue  to  the  backs. 

The  one  which  he  himself  fashioned  from  that  tree 
bough  was  a  clumsy  and  not  very  effective  weapon ; 
but,  as  he  said,  it  was  better  than  nothing.  Later  he 
made  some  unfeathered  arrows,  whose  points  he  hard- 
ened by  heating  them  in  the  fire  which  the  boys  were 
permitted  to  build  in  their  lodge. 

Throughout  the  greater  part  of  that  day,  and  far 
into  the  night,  the  booming  of  Umtippi's  medicine 
drum  was  heard,  accompanied  by  his  weird  chanting. 
There  was  much  sickness  in  the  village,  and  the  old 
sorcerer  was,  in  consequence,  a  busy  and  an  important 
man.  Wherever  he  went  he  seemed  to  be  accom- 
panied by  Waskema,  whom  the  Indians  feared  and 
believed  in  as  if  she  were  a  veritable  medicine  man 
herself.  They  were  sure  that  she  could  forecast  the 
future,  and  also  that  she  could  call  down  from  the 
skies  terrible  maladies  on  whoever  opposed  her. 

Neither  Umtippi  nor  Waskema  paid  the  slightest 
attention  to  the  boys  throughout  the  whole  of  that  day, 
nor  for  several  days  thereafter.  They  seemed  to  have 
agreed  to  ignore  them,  as  if  they  were  of  no  conse- 
quence, or  beneath  notice. 

In  spite  of  the   sickness,  and   of   the   howUng   and 


PRISONERS   IN   AN    INDIAN   VILLAGE         169 

drumming  of  the  medicine  man,  the  Indian  children 
romped  and  played  their  games.  They  rode  their 
ponies;  they  had  their  shooting  matches  with  bows 
and  arrows ;  they  indulged  in  swimming  races  in  the 
river  which  ran  hard  by.  Childish  yells  and  shrill 
laughter  filled  the  air  almost  constantly. 

"  I  rather  think  I  should  like  to  be  an  Indian  boy 
myself,"  said  Ben  Allen,  as  he  watched  these  frolicsome 
youngsters.  '*  I  don't  see  that  they  are  ever  punished, 
no  matter  what  they  do.  It  is  certain  they  do  not 
have  to  go  to  school,  except  when  some  white  man 
like  Whitman  coaxes  them  into  his  mission.  They 
have  very  little  work  to  do,  if  any." 

"  And  from  little  savages  they  grow  up  to  become 
big  savages." 

Ben  wreathed  his  homely  face  in  a  smile. 

•'Well,  I  don't  know  as  that  is  so  bad,  after  all. 
When  I  was  a  Httle  chap  I  thought  I  should  like  to  run 
away  to  sea,  get  shipwrecked  on  some  island,  and  play 
Robinson  Crusoe.  Afterward,  when  I  began  to  hear  so 
much  about  this  Western  country,  I  had  an  ambition  to 
be  a  trapper  or  a  hunter,  or  perhaps  even  an  Indian." 

"  Is  that  what  brought  you  to  Oregon  ?  " 

Ben  smiled  again. 

''  Well,  not  exactly,  but  that  is  part  of  it.  I  was  on 
a  farm,  you  know." 


lyo  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

"  No,  I  didn't  know  anything  about  it.  I  don't 
tliink  you  ever  told  me." 

'*  I  was  on  a  farm,  working.  My  parents  had  died. 
I  think  I  told  you  that.  I  didn't  want  to  become 
simply  an  Indianny  clodhopper.  I  heard  about  Whit- 
man's party.  He  was  wanting  people,  all  he  could  get, 
to  go  with  him  to  Oregon.  Says  I  to  myself,  'Ben 
Allen,  here's  your  chance'  And  so  I  came.  I  wanted 
adventure." 

It  was  Phil's  time  to  smile,  and  even  to  laugh. 
"  1  think  you  are  finding  all  the  adventure  you  care 
for." 

"Well,  yes;  but  you  see  it  was  not  just  this  kind  of 
adventure  that  I  expected  to  find.  I  wanted  to  trap, 
and  to  hunt  game,  and  to  fish  in  the  rivers.  You  don't 
know  what  stories  I  heard  of  the  wonderful  amount  of 
fish  there  is  in  the  Columbia." 
"That  is  all  true,"  said  Phil. 

With  talks  like  this  the  boys  beguiled  the  time, 
which,  in  spite  of  all  they  could  do,  passed  tediously 
enough.  They  found  they  were  not  to  be  permitted  to 
leave  the  village.  When  they  went  to  sleep  at  night, 
a  stalwart  Indian  lay  stretched  across  the  lodge  en- 
trance and  another  slept  on  the  ground  just  outside. 
They  could  hardly  move  without  arousing  one  of  these 
guards. 


PRISONERS   IN   AN    INDIAN   VILLAGE         171 

They  were  not  only  not  permitted  to  administer  to 
any  of  the  sick  Indians,  but  all  their  medicines  were 
destroyed,  except  some  in  the  form  of  powders,  which 
Phil  had  kept  in  an  inner  pocket  of  his  jacket. 

The  boys  were  much  disturbed  one  day  by  the  ap- 
pearance in  Stikine's  village  of  Matpah,  whose  enmity 
Phil  had  reason  to  fear.  Matpah  stared  when  he  saw 
them  there,  and  afterward  they  noticed  him  talking 
closely  with  Stikine  and  Umtippi ;  but  he  departed 
without  any  open  demonstration  against  Phil,  much  to 
the  latter' s  relief. 

''  It  seems  a  little  strange  that  Tilskit  does  not  come 
back,"  said  Phil  one  day. 

"I  have  been  rather  hoping  that  Whitman  himself 
would  come,"  answered  Ben,  "though  I  don't  know 
that  he  could  do  anything  for  us." 

''I  have  not  expected  Mr.  Whitman.  He  probably 
thinks  that  we  are  going  from  one  village  to  another, 
doing  what  we  can.  He  hasn't  the  least  idea  of  the 
condition  of  things  up  here.  He  trusts  the  Indians, 
and  he  doesn't  understand  them  very  well." 

As  the  boys  talked,  sitting  on  a  sUght  elevation 
that  overlooked  the  valley-like  margin  of  the  stream, 
old  Umtippi,  the  medicine  man,  was  "mixing  medi- 
cine" just  below  them.  This  statement  is  not  to  be 
taken  in  the  literal  sense  that  he  was  concocting  heal- 


172  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

ing  drugs  or  brewing  medicinal  roots  and  herbs.  He 
had  a  great  fire  going  there  by  the  brink  of  the  river, 
and  over  this  fire  a  pot  was  swung ;  but  there  was  no 
medicine  in  the  pot,  only  various  things  which  he  con- 
sidered charms,  "eye  of  newt  and  toe  of  frog,"  after 
the  style  of  the  witches  of  Macbeth. 

As  the  stuff  in  the  pot  boiled  and  bubbled,  sending 
up  clouds  of  steam,  the  medicine  man  postured  by  the 
river,  swinging  his  medicine  bag  of  snakeskin.  He 
was  appealing  to  the  spirits  of  the  mountains,  to  the 
spirits  of  the  fire  and  of  the  water,  in  the  belief  that 
by  so  doing  he  would  acquire  power  to  heal  the  sick  of 
the  village. 

Many  warriors  and  squaws  were  watching  the  old 
medicine  man,  and  he  knew  it.  He  was  like  an  actor 
before  the  footlights,  who  is  trying  to  thrill  and  influ- 
ence his  audience.  It  was  very  plain  that  the  old 
sorcerer  believed  himself  to  be  a  great  man. 

As  Phil  Curtis  and  Ben  Allen  sat  thus  looking  at 
Umtippi,  a  stone,  loosened  by  Ben's  foot,  started  down 
the  hillside,  bounding  and  rebounding.  With  a  thun- 
dering crash  it  struck  the  boiling  caldron,  scattering 
the  fire  in  every  direction,  bowling  the  medicine  man 
himself  over,  and  knocking  him  into  the  river. 

Phil  started  up  in  dismay. 

"  Did  you  do  that  purposely  ?  "  he  asked. 


PRISONERS   IN   AN   INDIAN   VILLAGE         173 

Ben  Allen  seemed  to  be  hiding  a  laugh. 

*'  Well,  no,  I  didn't  do  it  purposely.  That  is,  I  didn't 
mean  to  have  the  stone  go  just  where  it  did.  I  thought 
I  could  roll  it  down  there,  and  give  him  a  Httle  scare, 
and  he  wouldn't  know  that  I  had  anything  to  do  with 
it." 

The  astonished  Indians  were  voicing  their  surprise 
and  anger  in  yells.  A  number  of  them  rushed  down 
to  the  water,  plunged  in,  and,  seizing  the  struggling 
Umtippi,  dragged  him  out. 

If  the  situation  had  not  been  so  serious,  Phil  could 
have  laughed.  The  pompous  medicine  man  of  a  few 
moments  before  was  now  a  draggled  fright.  The 
stripes  of  paint  with  which  he  had  ornamented  his 
face  had  run  together  in  a  strange  mass  of  color. 
His  elaborate  medicine  robe  of  elkskin  was  soaked 
and  dripping.  His  feathered  hair  hung  down  his  back 
in  a  wet  wisp,  and  each  single  dyed  porcupine  quill 
that  ornamented  his  deerskin  shirt  and  leggings  seemed 
to  be  sparkling  with  raindrops.  He  was  in  a  great 
rage,  too,  and  he  sputtered  and  fumed  with  a  fury  that 
would  have  put  old  Waskema  to  shame. 

It  did  not  take  Ben  Allen  long  to  learn  that  his 
Httle  piece  of  pleasantry,  as  he  had  thought  it,  was 
Hkely  to  have  serious  consequences.  Both  he  and 
Phil  were   seized  by  the   angry  Indians,  and  confined 


174  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

in  their  lodge,  with  a  guard  stationed  at  the  entrance. 
Then  they  heard  a  great  powwowing  in  the  medicine 
lodge,  and  they  knew  that  the  subject  of  the  insult 
to  the  medicine  man  was  under  discussion.  Ben 
Allen  was  undeniably  frightened.  Phil  Curtis  was 
uneasy.  What  might  come  of  it  all  he  could  only 
guess. 

The  serious  results  which  Phil  more  than  half  an- 
ticipated were  not  to  fall  at  once,  at  any  rate.  Before 
the  meeting  ended,  a  loud  wailing  was  heard  on  the 
border  of  the  village.  This  grew  louder  and  louder, 
and  was  joined  in  by  many  feminine  voices. 

Stepping  to  the  entrance,  in  spite  of  the  presence 
of  the  guard,  Phil  looked  out  and  saw  Pio-pio-mox-mox. 
The  old  chief  was  surrounded  by  a  retinue  of  wailing 
Indians,  and  he  sat  on  his  pony  with  head  bowed  in 
an  attitude  of  deep  grief. 

Pio-pio-mox-mox  rode  slowly  by,  through  the  narrow 
avenue  between  the  lodges ;  and  though  he  glanced 
at  Phil,  as  the  latter  stood  boldly  in  the  lodge  en- 
trance, hoping  to  attract  his  attention,  he  seemed 
scarcely  to  see  him.  A  great  weight  settled  on  Phil's 
heart. 

"  Elijah  is  dead,"  he  said,  turning  back  into  the 
lodge  and  speaking  to  Ben  Allen.  "  I  don't  know 
anything   about   it,  or  how  it  happened ;    but  I  know 


PRISONERS   IN   AN    INDIAN   VILLAGE         175 

from   the   manner   of    Pio-pio-mox-mox   that    EHjah   is 
dead." 

It  was  too  true.  EHjah,  whom  Phil  had  seen  riding 
away  so  gayly  in  his  Indian  finery,  lay  dead  at  Sutter's 
Fort,  in  California;  and  the  Yellow  Serpent,  heart- 
sore  and  bewildered,  was  returning  to  his  people. 

Pio-pio-mox-mox  stopped  in  the  village  of  Stikine 
to  rest  before  going  on  to  his  own  village,  which  was 
some  distance  away.  He  came  to  the  lodge  where 
Phil  was  now  held  as  a  prisoner  with  Ben  Allen ;  and 
in  a  slow,  sorrowful  manner  tried  to  acquaint  Phil 
with  the  whole  story  of  the  terrible  tragedy. 

"We  went  to  Sutter's  Fort,"  he  said,  speaking  in 
Cayuse.  "  We  went  there,  as  you  know,  to  buy  cattle. 
At  first  the  white  men  treated  us  well.  We  had  not 
enough  peltries,  so  we  went  into  the  mountains  to 
hunt  more.  We  hoped  to  buy  many  cattle.  There 
were  other  Indians  with  us ;  for  though  we  rode  alone 
from  Waiilatpu,  we  joined  other  Cay  uses  who  were 
waiting  for  us,  and  who  went  on  with  us  into  Cali- 
fornia. In  the  California  mountains,  while  we  were 
hunting  to  get  more  peltries,  we  had  a  fight  with  a 
band  of  Indian  robbers,  and  we  captured  from  them 
twenty-two  horses.     Ah,  those  horses  !  " 

Old  Pio-pio-mox-mox  looked  up  at  Phil  with  stream- 
ing eyes. 


176  A  COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

*'  It  was  those  horses !  They  were  ours,  by  the 
laws  of  war.  We  brought  them  to  Sutter's  Fort. 
Some  white  men  there  claimed  we  had  stolen  the 
horses  from  them.     They  said  we  must  give  them  up. 

" '  No/  said  Elijah ;  '  we  will  not  give  them  up. 
They  are  ours.  We  fought  for  them  with  the  rob- 
bers in  the  mountains,  and  they  are  ours.  We  will 
fight  for  them  now,  but  that  we  keep  them.' 

"  Then  the  white  men  drew  their  guns.  They  fired 
upon  us;  and  Elijah  —  my  son,  Elijah  —  fell.  He 
was  dead !  We  were  frightened,  then,  and  we  turned 
and  ran,  lest  we  should  all  be  slain.  We  leaped  on 
our  horses,  and  rode  far,  far  away  from  Sutter's 
Fort.  As  we  rode  away,  we  heard  the  booming  of 
the  cannon  that  sent  the  great  shot  tearing  over  our 
heads.  We  left  everything  behind  us,  and  we  fled 
scarcely  fast  enough,  for  the  white  men  followed 
hard  in  pursuit." 

Pio-pio-mox-mox  rocked  to  and  fro  and  wept  again. 

''That  was  six  weeks  ago.  Now  I  am  here.  To- 
morrow I  go  on  to  my  own  village.  I  have  been 
kind  to  the  white  men,  I  have  been  their  friend;  yet 
this  is  what  I  have  received  in  return  !  Out  there 
is  Elijah's  horse  —  his  beautiful  spotted  horse!  Elijah 
shall  nevermore  ride  him  !  " 

The   return   of    Pio-pio-mox-mox   with    this    terrible 


PRISONERS   IN   AN    INDIAN   VILLAGE         177 

story  to  the  Indians  of  the  Walla  Walla  was  like 
applying  a  lighted  match  to  a  bonfire  ready  to  be 
kindled.  The  story  flew  from  lodge  to  lodge,  and 
from  village  to  village,  as  if  on  the  wings  of  the  wind. 
Pio-pio-mox-mox  had  been  the  especial  friend  of  the 
white  men.  He  had  been  the  champion  and  the  ad- 
herent of  Marcus  Whitman  ever  since  that  faithful 
missionary  had  estabhshed  himself  at  Waiilatpu.  And 
this  was  his  reward!  His  son,  Elijah,  —  his  only  son, 
Elijah, —who  had  been  baptized  at  the  Methodist 
mission  on  the  Columbia,  —  Elijah,  the  kind-hearted. 
Christian  boy,  had  fallen  before  the  rancorous  shot 
of  a  white  man  ! 

Before  the  old  chief  left  Stikine's  village  and  passed 
on  his  way  to  his  own  home,  Phil  Curtis  knew  that 
the  situation  in  which  he  and  Ben  Allen  were  now 
placed  was  most  serious.  Ben  had  grossly  insulted 
Umtippi.  A  white  man  in  far-away  California  had 
killed  Elijah.  Marcus  Whitman,  the  Indians  firmly 
believed,  was  working  spells  to  do  them  harm,  and 
they  believed  also  that  these  youths  themselves  were 
in  the  village  of  Stikine  with  black  intent  in  their 
hearts.  The  outlook  was  not  pleasant,  and  Phil 
knew  it. 

Yet  faithful  old  Pio-pio-mox-mox  had  said  a  good 
word  for  Phil  and  his  friend  before  leaving  Stikine's 


1 78  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

village.  He  had  impressed  upon  Stikine  a  remem- 
brance of  the  fact  that  Phil  Curtis  was  a  Cayuse  by 
adoption ;  that  he  was  the  white  son  of  the  chief, 
Tilskit.  But  for  this  matters  might  have  gone  much 
harder  with  the  two  boys  than  they  did  at  that  time. 


CHAPTER   XVI 

THE   ESCAPE 

THE  kind  words  said  by  Pio-pio-mox-mox  in  behalf 
of  Phil  Curtis  caused  no  perceptible  change  in 
the  attitude  of  the  Indians  toward  the  boys.  Phil  and 
Ben  were  kept  confined  closely  in  the  lodge,  and  were 
watched  constantly. 

"  If  conditions  become  too  unpleasant,  we  will  make 
a  desperate  effort  to  get  away,"  said  Phil. 

"If  conditions  become  too  unpleasant.-'"  cried  Ben 
Allen.     "  I  don't  think  they  could  be  much  worse." 

**  Yes,  they  could  be  a  great  deal  worse.  So  far,  we 
are  in  no  personal  danger.  We  are  only  deprived  of 
our  liberty." 

A  few  days  later,  however,  the  situation  took  so 
serious  a  turn  that  even  Phil  Curtis  admitted  that  the 
time  had  come  for  them  to  escape,  if  they  could. 

An  Indian  boy  came  into  Stikine's  village,  bringing 
startling  news  from  the  Waiilatpu  mission.  He  claimed 
that  while  lying  in  bed  at  the  mission,  pretending  to  be 
asleep,  he  had  heard  the  particulars  of  a  plot  to  kill  all 

179 


i8o  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

the  Cayuse  Indians.  Mr.  Spalding  had  come  down  from 
the  mission  at  Lapwai,  and  he  and  Doctor  Whitman 
had  discussed  the  plan  together.  Whitman,  the  boy- 
said,  proposed  to  send  out  "  medicine  "  to  all  the  Cayuse 
villages.  This  ''medicine"  was  to  be  poison,  which 
would  wipe  the  Indians  from  the  face  of  the  earth. 

The  telUng  of  this  story  in  Stikine's  village  created 
the  most  intense  excitement.  It  seemed  to  bear  out 
the  claims  of  Waskema,  that  Phil  Curtis  and  Ben  Allen 
were  merely  Whitman's  emissaries,  whose  purpose  was 
not  to  heal,  but  to  kill. 

When  Phil  heard  that  story  from  the  lips  of  Stikine, 
the  alarm  which  he  felt  was  more  for  Marcus  Whitman 
than  for  himself.  He  tried  to  make  it  clear  to  Stikine 
that  what  the  boy  had  overheard,  if  he  had  really  over- 
heard anything,  was  a  conference  between  Whitman 
and  Spalding  concerning  the  best  methods  of  combat- 
ing the  diseases  with  which  the  Indians  were  afflicted. 
The  boy  had  heard  the  missionaries  speak  of  "  medi- 
cines "  to  be  sent  among  the  Indians.  That  was 
enough  for  an  excited  and  ignorant  mind  to  found  the 
wildest  and  most  improbable  story  upon. 

Stikine  listened  gravely. 

''  It  is  very  strange,"  was  his  comment. 

Then  he  went  away. 

"  I  shall  not  hesitate  any  longer,"  said  Phil.     "  If  it 


THE   ESCAPE  i8i 

can  be  done,  we  will  get  out  of  this  lodge,  and  out  of 
the  village,  to-night." 

**  How  can  we  do  it  ?  You  will  find  me  as  ready  to 
go  as  you  are." 

Phil  tapped  the  breast  of  his  fringed  hunting-shirt. 
Only  one  guard  was  on  duty  before  the  lodge  entrance, 
and  this  one,  as  they  had  discovered,  understood  no 
English.     Nevertheless,  Phil  spoke  in  a  low  tone  :  — 

"The  few  powders  that  I  have  here,  which  the  Ind- 
ians didn't  find,  are  of  opium,  or  something  like  that. 
Whitman  divided  them  up  into  doses,  and  told  me 
never  to  give  one  unless  an  Indian  was  suffering  very 
great  pain.  He  said  that  one  of  them  would  put  a 
man  to  sleep  and  cause  him  to  sleep  several  hours." 

Ben  Allen's  homely  face  shone  with  interest  and 
excitement. 

''  If  you  can  do  it !  Say,  that's  great !  We  ought  to 
have  tried  it  before." 

"  I  wasn't  ready  to  leave.  I  haven't  really  wanted  to 
leave  until  the  last  few  days.    Now  we  have  got  to  leave." 

"  We  are  in  danger  of  being  killed  here  ?  " 

**  I  don't  know.  I  have  felt  all  along  that  the  fact 
that  I  am  considered  a  Cayuse  by  these  people  would 
be  a  protection,  and  would  protect  you  as  well  as  me. 
I  want  to  get  away  now  to  give  warning  to  Marcus 
Whitman." 


i82  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

He  explained  the  situation  as  he  saw  it.  The  con- 
dition of  affairs  in  that  village  was  no  doubt  a  type  of 
that  in  every  village.  All  the  Cayuses  were  becoming 
daily  more  incensed  against  the  whites.  Phil  feared  a 
massacre,  or  a  series  of  them,  and  a  general  Indian  war. 

At  intervals  throughout  the  day  he  and  Ben  Allen 
discussed  various  plans  for  escaping  that  night  in  the 
darkness.  Fortunately  the  moon  did  not  rise  until  late. 
In  their  walks  about  the  village,  before  their  close  con- 
finement in  the  lodge,  they  had  observed  everything 
very  narrowly.  They  knew  the  location  of  each  lodge, 
and  what  particular  chief  or  warrior  occupied  it.  They 
knew  just  where  the  ponies  were  kept  and  how  they 
were  guarded.  They  had  observed  the  configuration  of 
the  surrounding  country  and  the  trails  which  led  to  and 
from  the  village. 

As  night  drew  on,  Ben  became  exceedingly  nervous. 
If  Phil  Curtis  had  not  kept  him  from  doing  so,  he  would 
have  gone  continually  to  the  entrance  to  look  out. 

Many  strange  Indians  came  into  the  village  that  day. 
There  was  much  suppressed  excitement,  together  with 
frequent  conferences  and  a  great  deal  of  talk.  With 
the  coming  of  darkness  drums  began  to  boom  in  the 
council  lodge. 

"  I  wish  I  knew  what  is  to  be  said  in  that  lodge 
to-night,"  was  Phil's  thought. 


THE    ESCAPE  183 

What  he  feared  was  that  warriors  were  gathering  to 
march  against  the  white  settlements.  Once,  while  stay- 
ing with  his  father  in  a  Sioux  village  beyond  the  moun- 
tains, he  had  seen  a  war  party  prepare  and  set  off  against 
the  Pawnees.  The  same  excitement  he  now  observed 
had  been  noticeable  then.  He  remembered  how  the 
war  drums  had  boomed  in  the  big  council  lodge  of  the 
Sioux.  He  had  gone  in  with  his  father,  and  had  there 
listened  to  the  bombastic  and  fiery  speeches  of  the  chiefs 
and  the  head  men.  Then,  the  next  day,  he  had  seen 
the  warriors  ride  away  in  war-paint  and  decked  with 
feathers. 

There  were  many  good  qualities  in  Stikine.  Until 
the  time  of  their  imprisonment  he  had  treated  the  boys 
almost  as  if  they  were  invited  guests.  The  food  given 
them  was  as  good  as  the  Cayuses  had  themselves,  and 
it  was  supplied  in  abundance. 

This  food  Phil  and  Ben  cooked  over  their  own  fire, 
which  they  built  usually  out  of  doors,  though  sometimes, 
in  rough  weather,  they  used  the  fire-hole  in  the  centre 
of  the  lodge. 

As  they  prepared  their  simple  meal  of  soup  and  meat 
this  evening,  Phil  engaged  the  guard  in  a  friendly  con- 
versation. He  inquired  concerning  the  meaning  of  the 
drum  beating  and  the  excited  gathering  of  the  Indians 
in  council. 


i84  A  COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

''You  would  like  to  go?"  said  Phil.  "  I  should  like 
to  attend  the  council  myself." 

The  guard  looked  longingly  in  the  direction  of  the 
council  lodge,  but  shook  his  head.  He  would  not  leave 
his  post,  nor  would  he  give  definite  answers. 

Phil  ladled  out  some  of  the  soup  into  a  bowl  made 
from  a  wild  gourd. 

"It  is  good,"  he  said,  speaking  to  the  guard. 

Then  he  drank  the  soup,  smacking  his  lips  with  much 
gusto. 

He  saw  the  guard  look  hungrily  at  the  bowl. 

"  I  can  get  you  some,"  Phil  volunteered. 

Turning  back  into  the  lodge,  he  dipped  another 
gourdfu],  contriving  at  the  same  time  to  drop  into  it  two 
of  the  powders  which  he  had  kept  secreted  so  long  in 
the  inner  pocket  of  his  hunting-shirt. 

Winter  was  at  hand,  and  the  night  was  cool,  with  the 
wind  blowing  fresh  from  the  mountains.  The  steaming 
soup  in  the  bowl  was  tempting,  and  the  unsuspicious 
guard  drank  it  greedily. 

So  long  a  time  passed  after  that  before  Phil  noticed 
any  effects  of  the  opiate  that  he  began  to  fear  the  drug 
had  lost  its  virtue.  Ben  Allen  was  in  a  fit  of  nervous 
terror.  He  was  almost  afraid  to  look  at  the  Indian  lest 
the  latter's  suspicions  should  be  aroused ;  but  Phil  con- 
tinued to  talk  to  the  guard,  and  to  speak  of  what  was 


"'NOW   IS  OUR  TIME,'    PHIL  WHISPERED. 


THE   ESCAPE  185 

probably  occurring  in  the  council  house,  where  the 
drums  were  now  booming  at  a  great  rate  and  orators' 
voices  could  be  heard. 

To  Phil's  great  joy  the  Indian  at  last  began  to  show 
signs  of  drowsiness.  He  yawned  and  stretched  his 
arms ;  then  he  walked  to  and  fro  in  front  of  the  lodge 
to  drive  away  the  strange  feeUng  of  sleepiness  that  was 
oppressing  him.  By  and  by,  losing  his  sense  of  caution, 
he  sat  down  in  front  of  the  lodge,  with  his  gun  across 

his  knees. 

Indians  were  still  passing  to  and  fro  between  the 
lodges,  but  the  attention  of  every  one  was  centred  on 
the  big  lodge  where  the  council  was  in  progress.  Phil 
could  have  cried  for  joy,  when  at  last,  overpowered 
by  the  drug,  the  guard  leaned  heavily  back  against  the 
lodge  covering,  letting  his  head  fall  upon  his  breast. 

"  Now  is  our  time,"  Phil  whispered. 

In  another  moment  he  and  Ben  Allen  were  outside. 
Stepping  over  the  sleeping  sentinel,  who  sat  almost  in 
the  entrance,  Phil  moved  quickly  round  the  lodge.  Ben 
followed  closely  at  his  heels,  shivering  with  excite- 
ment. 

"  If  we  had  our  guns,"  said  Ben. 

"  Yes,  I  have  been  thinking  of  that.  I  know  where 
they  are,  and  I  will  get  them.     You  stay  here." 

He  looked  about  in  the  darkness. 


i86  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

"  In  those  bushes  over  there  will  be  a  better  place 
for  you  to  hide.     Come  !  " 

He  took  Ben  by  the  hand,  and  together  they  walked 
toward  the  bushes. 

*'  I  will  be  back  in  just  a  minute.  Don't  move. 
Don't  stir,  no  matter  what  happens.  Even  if  the 
guard  is  discovered,  stay  right  where  you  are." 

"  All  right,"  said  Ben ;  but  his  voice  trembled. 

Phil  turned  away  in  the  darkness,  disappearing  like 
a  shadow.  He  was  gone  less  than  five  minutes,  though 
to  Ben  Allen  the  time  was  interminable.  He  returned 
without  the  guns,  but  he  had  his  hunting-knife  in  its 
leather  case  and  a  little  cooked  food  wrapped  in  a  roll 
of  bark. 

"I  couldn't  find  the  guns,"  he  said;  "but  we're  in 
luck  to  get  these  things.  I  was  afraid  to  make  too 
much  of  a  search.  Put  some  of  this  meat  in  your 
pockets.  Now  I'm  ready  to  see  what  we  can  do,  if 
you  are." 

*'You  lead  the  way,"  said  Ben.  "I'll  follow  you, 
and  I'll  do  my  best  to  keep  from  stumbHng,  though  I 
can't  see  anything  hardly.  What  I  am  most  afraid  of 
is  the  dogs.  One  of  them  came  sniffing  around  the 
bushes  while  you  were  gone.  It  made  my  hair  creep, 
but  when  I  kicked  at  him  he  ran  away." 

Phil    headed   into   the   darkness   that    bordered   the 


THE   ESCAPE  187 

village.  As  soon  as  he  and  Ben  were  beyond  the 
farthest  lodge,  they  turned  at  right  angles  and  passed 
up  over  the  timbered  hill  which  led  to  the  small  pas- 
ture where  the  ponies  were  herded  at  night. 

Phil  Curtis  seemed  to  move  with  the  lightness  and 
certainty  of  a  cat.  Ben  Allen  blundered  and  stumbled 
along  behind  him.  Phil  was  a  trained  mountaineer, 
with  almost  the  instinct  of  an  Indian  in  such  matters, 
while  Ben  was  a  clumsy  farmer  lad,  wholly  new  to 
such  experiences. 

When  they  had  gained  the  vicinity  of  the  pony  herd, 
Phil  went  forward  to  locate  the  guards.  He  knew 
that  it  was  customary  to  have  two  night  herders  in 
charge  of  the  ponies.  On  this  night  he  could  find 
but  one,  and  he  came  to  the  conclusion  that  the  other 
had  gone  into  the  village  to  attend  the  council. 

Having  discovered  the  position  of  the  guard,  Phil 
now  began  a  search  for  bridles  and  halters.  It  was 
slow  work,  and  he  knew  that  Ben  Allen  would  think 
he  had  been  gone  a  very  long  time.  The  only  thing 
he  could  find  was  a  rawhide  rope,  but  his  fingers 
closed  on  it  eagerly.  With  this  in  his  hand  he  ap- 
proached a  pony  that  was  lying  down.  It  sprang  up 
as  he  drew  near  it,  but  he  got  the  rawhide  about  its 
neck,  succeeded  in  making  a  slip  noose,  and  led  the 
pony  away  in  spite  of  its  struggles. 


1 88  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

The  noise  alarmed  the  guard,  and  he  spoke  out  in  a 
sharp,  excited  tone,  disclosing  the  fact  that  the  second 
guard  was  stationed  at  the  lower  end  of  the  pasture 
some  distance  away.  He  called  to  this  man  and  was 
answered  by  him. 

'*  Wolves  troubhng  the  ponies,"  said  one  of  them. 
"  They  keep  them  frightened  all  the  time.  Two  wolves 
passed  along  the  ridge  over  there  just  at  nightfall." 

If  Phil  had  been  seen  by  either  of  the  guards,  as  he 
crept  from  point  to  point  in  his  search  for  accoutre- 
ments, he  would  no  doubt  have  been  mistaken  for  one 
of  the  wolves  mentioned,  and  very  possibly  an  arrow 
or  a  bullet  would  have  been  sent  in  his  direction. 

Standing  now  with  the  rawhide  noose  about  the 
neck  of  the  pony,  and  one  hand  over  the  pony's  nose, 
he  waited  like  a  statue  in  the  darkness  ;  then  finding 
that  neither  of  the  guards  was  coming  in  his  direction, 
he  led  the  pony  quietly  along  toward  the  point  where 
Ben  Allen  lay  in  concealment. 

"Stay  right  here,  and  hold  it  until  I  can  bring  up 
another,"  he  whispered,  passing  the  rawhide  lariat  to 
Ben. 

"  I  began  to  think  something  had  happened  to  you, 
you  stayed  so  long." 

"  Yes,  I  was  gone  a  good  while';  but  these  things 
can't  be  done  in  a  hurry.     Don't  worry  if  I  should  be 


THE   ESCAPE  189 

gone  even  longer  this   time.     You  must   try  to   keep 
the  pony  quiet." 

Ben  Allen  rubbed  its  nose. 

'*  I  can  keep  the  brute  quiet  all  right,  I  think.  I 
am  used  to  horses.  One  of  the  things  I  hated  about 
that  farm  work  back  in  Indianny  was  that  I  had  to 
take  care  of  the  horses  all  the  time.  I  hope  you  won't 
be  gone  long." 

Phil  was  moving  away  even  before  Ben  finished 
speaking.  He  was  not  so  successful  in  this  second 
attempt.  He  could  find  no  lariat.  Taking  one  of  the 
ponies  at  last  by  the  foretop,  he  tried  to  lead  it,  but 
it  resisted  his  efforts  and  becoming  frightened  broke 
away  from  him.  Instantly  there  was  great  confusion 
among  the  other  ponies.  The  guards  began  to  shout 
to  each  other. 

In  his  desperation  Phil  laid  hold  of  the  mane  of  the 
first  pony  he  came  to.  Springing  on  its  back,  he 
gouged  its  sides  with  his  heels  and  sought  to  ride  it 
out  of  the  herd,  which  was  now  a  confused,  moving 
mass.  One  of  the  herders,  who  had  dropped  on  his 
face,  knowing  he  could  see  better  in  that  position  with 
the  sky  as  a  background,  caught  an  indistinct  view 
of  the  figure  of  Phil  mounted  on  the  back  of  the  plung- 
ing pony.  Then  a  rifle  cracked,  sending  a  ball  singing 
past  Phil's  ears,  and  announcing  to  the  village  by  its 


I90  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

loud  report  that  something  was  wrong  with  the  pony 
herd. 

In  spite  of  the  peril  of  his  situation,  Phil  Curtis  did 
not  lose  self-control.  He  was  a  good  horseman,  even 
though  placed  under  a  great  disadvantage ;  and  by 
swaying  his  body  from  side  to  side,  striking  with  his 
heels,  and  dragging  at  the  mane,  he  rode  the  pony  out 
of  the  herd. 

The  confusion  was  now  a  wild  uproar.  From  the  vil- 
lage came  shouts  and  calls.  The  herders  yelled.  A 
number  of  the  ponies,  stricken  with  panic,  stampeded  in 
a  body. 

**  This  way  !  "  said  Phil,  as  he  reached  Ben  Allen's 
side.  "  I  was  afraid  you  would  be  gone.  Now,  can  you 
follow  me  }  We've  got  to  ride,  and  ride  lively.  Keep 
close  at  my  heels,  and  don't  get  lost  in  the  darkness." 

''  Ride  ahead,"  said  Ben.     ''  I  will  do  my  best." 

Scarcely  had  he  said  it  when  one  of  the  guards  came 
racing  in  their  direction.  Phil  clattered  away  on  his  bri- 
dleless  pony.  A  portion  of  the  stampeding  herd  came 
swinging  by.  Ben  Allen  could  not  see  a  rod  in  advance 
of  him,  and  he  soon  discovered,  to  his  consternation, 
that  he  was  not  following  Phil  Curtis  at  all,  but  some  of 
the  stampeding  ponies. 

"Well,  this  is  a  go  !  "  was  his  thought.  "What  I  am 
to  do,  even  if  I'm  not  captured,  I  don't   know.      But 


THE   ESCAPE  191 

whatever  comes,  I'll  not  go  back  into  that  village  if  I 
can  help  it." 

By  drawing  in  with  all  his  might  on  the  choking  lariat, 
he  succeeded  in  reducing  the  speed  of  the  pony,  and  at 
last  brought  it  to  a  halt.  The  rest  of  the  herd  had  raced 
on,  and  were  soon  out  of  sight.  Stillness  and  darkness 
reigned.  Afar  off  there  was  a  confused  sound,  which 
he  knew  was  made  by  the  searching  Indians.  Still  far- 
ther away  he  heard  the  mournful  howling  of  wolves. 

Now  that  he  was  left  to  his  own  resources,  Ben  Allen 
showed  that  he  was  a  lad  who  could  rely  upon  himself. 
As  long  as  Phil  Curtis  had  been  with  him  to  direct  and 
advise,  he  had  trusted  to  Phil's  guidance. 

"  I  shall  know  where  I  am,  or  at  least  what  direction 
is  east,  when  the  sun  rises,"  was  his  thought.  "  Even  if 
I  can't  find  Phil,  I  think  I  can  find  my  way  out  of  these 
hills." 

Looking  up,  he  began  to  study  the  stars.  He  picked 
out  the  Big  Dipper,  and  by  it  located  the  North  Star ; 
but  when  he  had  thought  over  the  matter,  he  concluded 
that  it  might  be  better  to  remain  where  he  was,  or  in 
that  vicinity,  until  morning. 

By  and  by,  when  the  moon  rose,  he  found  what 
seemed  to  be  a  secure  hiding-place  in  a  cleft  of  the 
hills.  There  he  tied  his  pony  with  the  rawhide  lariat, 
and  putting  his  back  against  a  rock,  he  sat  down  to  think 


192  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

over  his  situation  and  to  pass  the  night  as  well  as  he 
could. 

"  I'm  in  a  pickle,  but  better  off,  Hkely,  than  if  we'd 
remained  in  the  village,"  he  mused.  *'  It's  too  bad  that 
I  became  separated  from  Phil.  When  morning  comes,  I 
shall  try  to  work  toward  the  lower  country  if  I  don't 
find  him.  I  shall  have  to  go  about  it  pretty  carefully, 
too,  for  these  Indians  will  be  hunting  for  the  ponies  and 
for  us.  I  can  give  them  a  pretty  good  race,  though,  on 
that  Cayuse.     He  is  a  goer  when  he  gets  started." 

Thus  thinking,  and  feeling  very  tired  as  his  excite- 
ment wore  away,  Ben  Allen  fell  asleep,  and  slept 
soundly  until  the  sun  was  high  in  the  sky  and  shining 
in  his  face. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

PHIL'S    ADVENTURES 

PHIL  CURTIS  was  considerably  disconcerted  and 
very  much  distressed  when  he  discovered  that  Ben 
Allen  was  not  following  him. 

He  made  this  discovery  before  he  had  gone  very  far, 
and  he  altered  the  course  of  his  pony,  swinging  it  out  of 
its  direct  line  of  flight  by  pulUng  heavily  on  its  mane 
and  pressing  against  its  body  with  his  knees.  The  noise 
of  clattering  hoofs  was  greater  in  the  direction  in  which 
he  now  urged  the  pony,  and  he  thought  it  Hkely  that 
Ben  Allen  was  somewhere  in  the  midst  of  that  uproar. 

Behind  him  and  before  him,  as  well  as  upon  each 
hand,  there  was  also  a  confused  thundering  of  hoofs. 
The  yells  of  the  night  herders  were  still  Hfting  in  an  ear- 
splitting  way,  and  far  behind,  toward  the  village,  was 
the  confused  sound  of  a  great  commotion. 

"The  whole  village  seems  to  be  out  after  us,"  was  his 
thought,  as  he  fled  on. 

Not  seeing  Ben  Allen,  nor  hearing  anything  of  him, 
he  began  to  call  aloud.    There  was  no  answer  —  only  the 

193 


194  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

thudding  of  hoofs,  and  the  yells  which  still  echoed  on 
the  disturbed  air  of  the  night. 

"  I'm  afraid  Ben  will  fall  into  trouble.  This  is  new 
business  to  him,  riding  like  mad  over  such  rough  ground, 
and  no  doubt  he's  scared  blue.  There's  no  telling  which 
way  he  has  taken.  I  suppose  he's  gone  in  whatever 
direction  that  pony  headed  for,  if  it  hasn't  thrown  him 
and  bolted  before  now." 

Again  Phil  called,  venturing  to  raise  his  voice  to  a 
still  higher  pitch,  but  there  was  no  reply. 

The  headlong  pace  at  which  the  pony  was  carrying 
him  was  in  itself  a  menace.  There  was  danger  that 
at  any  time  it  might  stumble  in  the  darkness,  and, 
hurling  its  rider  over  its  head,  kill  him  or  so  injure  him 
as  to  render  him  helpless.  Appreciating  the  gravity  of 
his  situation,  Phil  by  degrees  pulled  the  pony  farther 
and  farther  to  the  right,  until  by  and  by  he  had  the 
satisfaction  of  seeing  the  last  of  the  stampeded  herd 
scamper  by. 

"But  I'm  not  safe  yet,"  was  his  conclusion;  and  he 
still  bore  to  the  right,  finding  some  level  ground  where 
travelling  was  not  so  difficult. 

Now  that  he  had  the  animal  out  of  the  herd,  he  found 
it  not  so  unmanageable.  It  had  been  well  broken 
by  its  Indian  master,  who  had  ridden  it  in  many  a 
wild  chase.      The  Cayuse  ponies  were  a  good   breed, 


PHIL'S   ADVENTURES  195 

stocky  and  well  built,  and,  for  Indian  ponies,  very- 
reliable. 

Sitting  on  the  pony,  in  a  thick  growth  that  screened 
him  well  in  the  darkness,  Phil  listened  long  for  some 
sound  which  might  indicate  the  position  or  the  fate 
of  Ben  Allen.  The  thunder  of  the  hoofs  of  the  stam- 
peded herd  was  dying  away  in  the  direction  of  the 
lower  hills.  The  yells  of  the  Indians  had  ceased  to 
ring  out,  yet  Phil  knew  that  the  pursuit  of  the  ponies 
would  not  be  discontinued  readily.  In  fact,  he  was 
sure  that  some  of  the  Indians  would  continue  the 
search  until  the  last  one  was  found  and  returned  to 
the  village. 

Phil  became  even  more  distressed  as  the  time  passed, 
and  he  thought  of  what  might  have  happened  to  Ben. 
He  wanted  to  leave  the  hills  immediately  and  hurry 
on  to  the  Waiilatpu  mission,  for  he  felt  that  he  had 
news  of  importance  for  Marcus  Whitman ;  yet  he 
could  not  depart  without  first  discovering  if  any  mis- 
hap had  befallen  his  comrade.  If  Ben  were  in  danger 
or  trouble,  it  was  his  duty  to  assist  him. 

"  He  may  have  been  captured,"  was  one  of  the 
reflections  that  troubled  Phil.  "In  that  case  it  will 
go  hard  with  him.  The  temper  of  these  Indians  has 
reached  the  breaking  point.  They  will  be  mad  with 
rage  when   they  discover  that  we  drugged  the  guard, 


196  A  COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

and  of  course  they  will  know  that  we  stampeded  the 
ponies.  These  things  will  give  old  Umtippi  and 
Waskema  just  the  arguments  they've  been  wanting. 
I  don't  believe  Stikine  could  stand  up  for  us  against 
them  now." 

Phil  remained  where  he  was  until  the  moon  rose  and 
began  to  brighten  the  hills.  There  was  an  advantage 
in  the  clearing  away  of  the  darkness  which  had 
sheltered  him.  He  could  see  which  way  to  go.  There- 
fore, he  left  the  thicket  and  rode  slowly  back  over  the 
route  he  had  come,  realizing  as  he  went  on  how  mad 
had  been  that  wild  flight  in  the  midst  of  the  stampeded 
ponies,  and  how  terrible  his  peril.  He  had  not  felt 
the  danger  then  as  now.  The  ground  was  very  broken, 
filled  with  rocks,  and  gullied  here  and  there,  and  it 
seemed  a  miracle  that  the  pony  had  not  broken  either 
its  neck  or  his  own. 

Phil  seemed  to  have  the  instinct  of  an  Indian.  The 
many  years  he  had  spent  in  the  trapping  grounds  of 
the  mountains  and  in  Indian  lodges  had  quickened 
certain  of  his  faculties  —  those  faculties  which  usually 
fail  the  ordinary  civilized  man  through  disuse.  As 
he  rode  on,  he  saw  everything  that  could  possibly  be 
revealed  by  the  white  light  of  the  moon.  He  heard 
every  sound  of  the  hills.  From  afar  off  came  the  long- 
drawn  howl   of  a  wolf.      Nearer  at  hand  some  small 


PHIL'S   ADVENTURES  197 

animal  of  the  night  gave  tongue  in  chase.  Nocturnal 
insects  scraped  and  buzzed.  Across  the  night  sky 
overhead  a  bird  passed  occasionally  with  whistling 
beat  of  wing.  With  the  exception  of  these  sounds,  a 
great  stillness  lay  on  the  hills ;  yet  Phil  Curtis  was  not 
afraid,  nor  was  he  lonesome.  His  thoughts  were  of 
Ben  Allen,  of  Marcus  Whitman,  and  of  the  dancing 
and  howling  Cayuses  in  the  village. 

A  long  time  was  required  to  cover  the  ground  which 
had  been  passed  over  so  quickly,  and  the  moon  was 
riding  high  in  the  sky  when  Phil  neared  the  lodges  of 
Stikine.  As  he  approached  them  he  again  heard  the 
booming  of  drums  in  the  council  house. 

"They're  still  at  it,  and  may  keep  at  it  all  night. 
The  Indian  mind  is  a  strange  thing.  Instead  of  going 
about  a  matter  as  a  white  man  would,  it  seems  neces- 
sary for  an  Indian  to  work  himself  up  to  a  certain 
pitch  of  excitement;  so  he  drums  and  howls  and 
dances,  boasts  of  what  he  has  done  and  what  he 
intends  to  do,  and  by  and  by,  when  he  feels  brave 
enough  or  furious  enough,  he  is  ready  to  rush  out 
and  do  the  thing  he  wants  to,  or  go  upon  the  war- 
path, if  that  is  what  has  been  in  his  mind.  War-path 
business  is  what  is  in  the  minds  of  these  Indians,  in 
my  opinion." 

Phil   knew  that  the   herd  had   not  been   recovered; 


198  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

yet  he  found,  when  he  drew  near  to  the  old  herding 
ground,  that  some  of  the  ponies  had  been  brought 
back.  He  was  now  in  a  quandary.  He  wanted  to 
leave  his  pony  and  creep  into  the  village,  to  find  out  if 
Ben  Allen  was  held  there  as  a  prisoner ;  but  he  had 
neither  rope  nor  halter. 

Native  ingenuity  came  to  his  aid.  Alighting  he 
stripped  several  long  pieces  of  flexible  bark  from  a 
tree,  and  uniting  these  with  some  twisted  withes  he 
contrived  to  make  a  halter  that  would  answer.  With 
this  he  tethered  the  pony  in  what  seemed  to  be  a 
secure  place.  Then  he  began  his  attempt  to  get 
nearer  to  the  lodges. 

Phil  was  well  aware  that  this  effort  would  be  attended 
by  a  good  deal  of  danger,  yet  he  felt  he  could  not  leave 
the  hills  without  knowing  certainly  what  had  become  of 
Ben  Allen.  Taking  advantage  of  every  bit  of  broken 
ground,  of  every  shadow  and  rock,  he  crept  forward, 
crawling  and  sliding  along  as  if  he  were  the  veriest 
wolf  of  the  Blue  Mountains. 

It  was  difficult  and  delicate  work,  yet  not  so  difficult 
and  delicate  to  him  as  it  would  have  been  to  one  un- 
accustomed to  it.  This  was  not  the  first  time  he  had 
crept  forward  upon  possible  enemies ;  and  he  had 
slipped  in  that  way  on  even  the  wildest  of  the  game 
animals  of  the  hills.     Every  twig  that  might  snap  and 


PHIL'S   ADVENTURES  199 

betray  his  presence,  he  removed  carefully  before  he 
went  on.  Now  and  then  he  stopped  and  lay  flat, 
almost  holding  his  breath  as  he  listened. 

In  this  manner,  exercising  infinite  patience  and  per- 
severance, Phil  Curtis  drew  near  to  the  lodges,  and 
by  and  by  crept  among  them,  crawling  up  to  the  very 
wall  of  the  council  lodge  itself.  He  could  tell  from 
the  sounds  within  that  it  was  crowded  with  Cayuses. 
Waskema  was  there,  for  he  could  hear  her  croaking 
voice.  Old  Umtippi  was  also  in  the  lodge,  and  was, 
at  the  moment,  addressing  the  assembled  Indians.  The 
murmurs  of  applause,  of  vindictive  fury,  and  of  fiery 
hatred  against  the  whites,  which  reached  Phil,  showed 
very  clearly  the  present  temper  of  these  members  of 
Stikine's  band. 

Phil  listened  most  for  some  word  which  would  tell 
him  of  Ben  Allen.  When  he  had  lain  there  a  long 
time  and  heard  nothing,  he  began  to  feel  certain  that 
Ben  was  still  somewhere  in  the  hills ;  that  the  Indians 
had  not  overtaken  him,  and  that,  for  the  present,  at 
least,  he  was  safe.  A  little  later  a  statement  of  Um- 
tippi made  him  sure  of  this. 

The  old  medicine  man  referred  to  the  escape  of  the 
boys  who  had  been  virtually  held  as  prisoners,  and  of 
the  finding  of  the  drugged  guard. 

"Putting   the    guard    to  sleep    was    a    part   of    the 


200  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

witchcraft  which  was  hidden  in  those  bottles,"  said 
Umtippi. 

He  recalled  to  the  Cayuses  the  fact  that  he  had 
warned  them  against  the  spirits  imprisoned  in  those 
bottles.  Those  spirits  had  been  put  there,  he  said, 
by  Doct'  Whit'n,  who  professed  to  be  a  friend  of  the 
Cayuses,  but  who  was  in  reality  their  enemy.  Doct' 
Whit'n  had  sent  these  boys  to  Stikine's  village  that 
they  might  there  loose  the  spirits  in  the  bottles  and 
destroy  the  Cayuses. 

As  old  Umtippi  went  on  making  his  statements,  and 
uttering  his  fiery  denunciations,  the  mystery  of  why 
Phil  and  Ben  Allen  had  been  seized  and  held  so  long 
as  prisoners  without  being  injured,  was  cleared  away. 
Because  Phil  Curtis  was  the  adopted  son  of  Tilskit, 
the  Indians  would  not  raise  their  hands  against  him. 
Nevertheless,  they  had  detained  him  and  his  companion 
to  keep  them  from  going  to  other  villages  and  scattering 
the  spirits,  which  the  Indians  believed  they  had  brought 
with  them.  Those  were  evil  spirits,  bad  spirits,  spirits 
of  disease  and  death  —  spirits  which  the  medicine  man, 
Umtippi,  had  combated  with  all  his  power. 

Phil  could  hear  him  telling  how  he  had  fought  against 
these  bad  spirits.  Sometimes  he  had  conquered,  he 
said,  and  at  other  times  he  had  failed.  When  he  had 
failed,  the  bad  spirits  had  been  more  powerful  than  he, 
and  had  dragged  the  sick  down  to  their  death. 


PHIL'S   ADVENTURES  201 

Then  Phil  learned  that  but  a  few  minutes  before  a 
woman  sick  of  measles  had  died.  Umtippi  told  how  he 
had  tried  to  save  her ;  but  he  claimed  he  could  not,  for 
the  evil  spirits  which  had  helped  the  white  prisoners  to 
escape,  which  had  aided  them  in  putting  a  deep  sleep 
on  the  guard,  had  thwarted  his  efforts.  The  woman 
had  died,  and  she  had  been  slain,  he  declared,  by  the 
spirits  which  had  assisted  the  prisoners. 

Old  Stikine,  though  he  was  superstitious,  so  much 
so  that  he  believed  many  of  the  things  said  by  Umtippi, 
attempted  to  voice  a  feeble  protest.  He  still  had  faith 
in  Marcus  Whitman,  and  he  had  the  courage  to  say  so  ; 
yet  he  acknowledged  that  the  bringing  of  those  bottles 
into  the  village  was  a  queer  thing,  and  not  to  be 
accounted  for.  He  could  but  admit  that  the  woman 
had  died,  that  the  guard  had  fallen  into  a  very  strange 
sleep,  from  which  he  could  not  be  aroused,  and  that  the 
prisoners  had  escaped;  yet  he  told  the  Cayuses  they 
should  not  be  hasty,  nor  hurry  to  redden  their  hands 
in  the  white  men's  blood. 

That  last  sentence  thrilled  Phil  Curtis  to  his  finger- 
tips. It  assured  him  beyond  peradventure  that  the 
Cayuses  gathered  in  the  medicine  lodge  were  discuss- 
ing the  question  of  moving  at  once  against  the  white 
men  in  the  valley  settlements. 

As  the  talk  went  on,  with  first  one  warrior  and  then 


202  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

another  giving  expression  to  his  opinions,  Phil  learned 
further  that  nearly  all  of  the  Cayuse  bands  were  in 
a  wild  ferment ;  and  that  not  only  were  the  Cayuses 
thrilled  with  a  feeling  of  enmity  against  the  whites,  but 
hostility  had  risen  in  the  hearts  of  the  Nez  Perces  and 
other  Oregon  tribes. 

For  nearly  an  hour  Phil  Curtis  lay  with  his  face  on 
the  ground,  listening  to  the  talk  in  the  council  lodge. 
The  moon  was  almost  midway  in  the  sky  before  he 
crept  away.  He  was  forced  to  move  with  exceeding 
stealth  now,  and  he  progressed  so  slowly  and  painfully 
that  any  one  watching  him  would  have  doubted  that  he 
moved  at  all.  Whenever  he  saw  an  Indian  walking 
among  the  lodges,  or  a  dog  come  sniffing  in  his  direction, 
he  lay  as  still  as  if  he  were  one  of  the  shadows  that  spotted 
the  ground.  When  the  danger  was  past,  he  crawled  on 
again,  quietly  and  cautiously. 

By  and  by,  when  he  was  at  some  distance  from  the 
medicine  lodge,  and  on  the  very  outskirts  of  the  village, 
he  crept  along  with  greater  speed ;  but  not  until  he  was 
well  beyond  the  last  lodge  did  he  venture  to  rise  to  his 
feet  and  walk  with  quick  footsteps  in  the  direction  of 
his  pony. 

"I'm  glad  I  went  back,"  was  his  thought.  *'I  know 
now  just  what  the  Indians  are  planning,  and  I  know 
that  Ben  is  not  there.     I   hope  he  has  struck  for  the 


PHIL'S  ADVENTURES  203 

lower  hills.  If  he  has,  he  will  get  away.  If  he  has 
gone  in  the  other  direction,  he  will  be  captured.  I  will 
look  for  him  in  the  morning." 

Phil  used  as  much  care  in  riding  away  from  the 
village  as  he  had  in  approaching  it.  When  he' had 
put  several  miles  behind  him  he  stopped,  dismounted, 
tied  the  pony,  and  remained  there  until  morning.  With 
the  first  streakings  of  light  he  began  his  search  for 
Ben  Allen. 

When  the  forenoon  was  pretty  well  spent,  he  came 
upon  an  Indian  boy,  and  while  still  some  distance  away 
heard  him  singing,  or  mumbling,  in  a  queer  way. 
Dismounting  and  leaving  his  pony  behind  him,  Phil 
slipped  forward.  The  boy  was  standing  at  the  foot 
of  a  small  tree  in  a  ravine,  and  seemed  to  be  talking 
to  the  air.  He  was  looking  upward,  but  there  was 
nothing  in  the  tree. 

Familiar  as  he  was  with  the  customs  of  these  Indians, 
Phil  knew  immediately  what  this  meant.  It  was  the 
working  out  of  one  of  the  Cayuse  superstitions. 
The  tribe  beheved  that  all  beasts,  birds,  reptiles,  and 
fishes  were  once  races  of  men,  and  that  these  creatures 
possessed  the  power  to  enter  into  men,  and  to  talk 
to  them,  for  the  purpose  of  controlHng  and  directing 
them.  Every  Cayuse  boy  was  required,  when  he 
reached  a  certain  age,  to  go  alone  into  the  mountains, 


204  A  COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

and  remain  there  for  several  days  without  food,  in 
order  that  he  might  be  addressed  by  some  animal, 
reptile,  bird,  or  fish. 

If  the  boy  were  worthy,  if  he  fasted  long  and  strenu- 
ously, it  was  believed  that  he  would  hear  a  voice  speak- 
ing to  him.  This  voice  would  tell  him  what  his  future 
was  to  be,  and  in  what  way  he  could  secure  honor  and 
long  life.  It  would  tell  him  how  he  might  become 
invulnerable,  and  what  he  should  do  if  wounded,  that 
he  might  recover  quickly. 

Some  of  the  Cayuse  boys  returned  without  hearing 
any  mysterious  voice  or  receiving  any  assurances. 
Others,  when  they  came  back,  told  what  they  had 
heard,  —  what  beast  or  bird,  what  reptile  or  fish,  had 
spoken  to  them.  Still  others  professed  great  secrecy, 
and  would  not  reveal  the  wonderful  things  they  had 
seen  and  Hstened  to. 

This  belief  and  practice  of  the  Cayuses,  as  Phil 
knew,  was  the  foundation  of  the  system  of  sorcery 
practised  by  the  medicine  men.  The  bird  or  beast 
which  talked  with  the  boy  ever  after  aided  him  in 
warding  off  evil  spirits  and  the  spells  which  enemies 
might  try  to  cast  upon  him. 

After  listening  for  a  time  to  the  words  of  the  boy, 
who  seemed  to  be  addressing  the  empty  air,  Phil 
Curtis  rose  from   behind  the  rock  where  he  had  con- 


PHIL'S   ADVENTURES  205 

cealed  himself  and  spoke  to  the  young  Cayuse.  The 
latter  started,  and  whirled  round  with  staring  eyes  and 
open  mouth.  He  had  been  fancying,  or  trying  to 
fancy,  that  he  heard  a  voice  in  the  air.  Now  he  heard 
a  real  voice,  and  its  tones  frightened  him.  When  he 
beheld  Phil,  he  seemed  on  the  point  of  running  away. 

•'  Stop  !  "  said  Phil.  "  Are  you  not  Neski,  the  nephew 
of  Stikine .? " 

The  boy  stared,  wondering.  He  was  in  so  strange 
a  mental  state  that  he  was  willing  and  ready  to  believe 
anything.  He  would  not  have  been  surprised  if  told 
that  Phil  had  dropped  down  behind  that  rock  from 
the  sky. 

"Yes,  I  am  the  nephew  of  Stikine;  I  am  Neski." 

"  Have  you  seen  another  white  boy  around  here  } " 
Phil  asked.  "  There  were  two  white  boys  in  the  village, 
you  remember,  —  myself  and  another." 

'*  I  have  seen  no  white  boy,"  said  Neski.  "  I  have 
seen  no  one  for  two  days.  All  that  long  time  I  have 
been  here,  fasting  and  talking  to  the  spirits.  I  thought 
I  heard  a  voice.  I  thought  it  was  the  voice  of 
the  bird  that  builds  its  nest  in  the  tops  of  the  tall 
redwoods  down  by  the  sea.  It  was  telling  me  to  be 
brave,  and  that  I  should  become  a  great  warrior.  Then 
I  heard  your  voice.  Now  I  do  not  hear  the  other 
voice  at  all." 


2o6  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

Phil  Curtis  felt  a  deep  sense  of  pity  for  Neski.  The 
Indian  boy  was  so  sincere  in  his  superstition,  that  Phil 
could  not  doubt  he  believed  he  had  heard  a  mysterious 
voice  coming  down  from  the  sky.  It  is  so  easy  to  believe 
strange  things  when  we  are  in  the  proper  mental  state. 

"Neski,"  said  Phil,  "your  people  are  thinking  black 
thoughts  against  the  white  men.  You  have  not  been 
there  for  two  days,  and  you  do  not  know  all  that  I 
know.  The  voice  you  heard  told  you  to  be  brave. 
A  brave  man  does  not  injure  any  one  without  need. 
The  white  boy  who  was  with  me  in  the  lodge  in  Sti- 
kine's  village  is  somewhere  about  here.  If  you  should 
see  him,  tell  him  that  I  go  at  once  to  the  mission  at 
Waiilatpu ;  and  tell  him,  t®o,  that  he  should  ride  toward 
the  mission  without  delay.     It  is  in  that  direction." 

Phil  pointed  far  off  across  the  hills. 

"  You  are  the  friend  of  Stikine,"  said  the  young 
Cayuse,  "  and  if  I  see  the  boy  I  shall  tell  him.  I  shall 
tell  him  because  you  are  the  friend  of  Stikine.  Now, 
if  you  will  go  away,  I  will  again  try  to  hear  the  voice 
of  the  bird  that  builds  its  nest  in  the  tops  of  the  tall 
redwoods  down  by  the  sea." 

Phil  Curtis  rode  off  in  the  direction  he  had  indi- 
cated. 

"  Ben  was  not  captured,  that  is  sure ;  and  as  he  is  a 
pretty  sensible  fellow  and  had  a  good  pony,  I  think  it 


PHIL'S   ADVENTURE'S  207 

is  safe  to  say  that  he  will  try  to  get  back  to  the  mission 
without  my  aid.  The  only  thing  I  am  afraid  of  is  that 
he  is  hunting  for  me  somewhere  in  these  hills.  But  I 
don't  think  I  ought  to  stay  here  any  longer.  I  must 
go  on  to  the  mission.  The  news  that  I  have  for  Doctor 
Whitman  is  urgent  and  important." 

So  Phil  Curtis  rode  away,  watching  carefully  as  he 
passed  on,  that  he  might  not  fall  into  the  hands  of  any 
body  of  Cayuses  who  were  out  in  search  of  the  scat- 
tered ponies. 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

STARTLING   NEWS 

IT  was  mid-afternoon  before  Phil  found  himself 
well  out  of  the  hills  and  approaching  the  more 
level  country  that  stretched  on  toward  Waiilatpu.  He 
had  maintained  his  native  caution,  keeping  always  to 
the  lower  ground  and  seeking  such  concealment  as  he 
could  find  for  himself  and  his  pony.  He  had  seen  no 
Indians,  though  once  or  twice  he  had  fancied  he  heard 
them  calling  to  each  other  in  the  distance.  But  now 
before  him  he  beheld  a  thin  column  of  smoke  mount- 
ing into  the  air,  indicating,  as  he  believed,  an  Indian 
camp-fire. 

"  Perhaps  I  had  better  investigate  that  fire  before  I 
go  on,"  was  his  thought. 

Therefore,  he  slipped  from  his  pony,  tying  it  as 
securely  as  he  could  with  the  lariat  he  had  manufac- 
tured of  bark  and  withes.  Then  he  crept  in  the 
direction  of  the  column  of  smoke,  taking  advantage 
of  every  inequality  of  surface  and  of  every  intervening 
rock  to  conceal  his   approach.     His  astonishment  was 

208 


STARTLING   NEWS  209 

great,  as  he  thus  advanced,  when  a  head  was  lifted, 
and  he  saw  Ben  Allen  stand  erect  in  the  open. 

"He's  a  fine  woodsman,"  was  Phil's  sarcastic  com- 
ment. **  He  doesn't  know  enough  to  come  in  when 
it  rains." 

Yet  Phil  Curtis  liked  and  admired  Ben  Allen.  He 
was  only  alarmed  and  disturbed  by  Ben's  apparent 
recklessness.  He  was  about  to  step  out  and  reveal 
himself,  when  a  humorous  thought  came  to  him. 

"I  will  give  him  a  scare;  he  deserves  it." 

Then,  instead  of  advancing  openly,  he  moved  on  as 
cautiously  as  if  he  were  approaching  a  hostile  encamp- 
ment. He  found  not  the  least  trouble  in  thus  creep- 
ing on  the  unsuspecting  youth.  After  staring  about 
a  while,  Ben  Allen  dropped  down  by  the  side  of  his 
fire,  seeming  to  feel  that  inasmuch  as  he  was  now  well 
out  of  the  hills  he  was  safe.  Just  beyond  him,  in  the 
depression,  his  pony,  tied  with  the  rawhide  lariat,  was 
grazing  peacefully.  Ben  was  apparently  feeling  very 
much  at  home.  This  Vv^as  more  in  appearance,  how- 
ever, than  in  reality,  for  he  had  been  greatly  distressed 
about  Phil,  and  was  still  very  much  worried. 

When  Phil  had  crawled  to  within  a  dozen  yards  of 
Ben,  he  picked  up  a  small  stone  and  hurled  it  with  such 
accuracy  that  it  struck  in  the  midst  of  the  fire,  scat- 
tering the  ashes  and  embers  in  every  direction.     That 


2IO  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

stone,  and  its  explosive  effect,  startled  Ben  Allen  half 
out  of  his  wits.  He  leaped  to  his  feet  with  a  cry  of 
fright  and  seemed  on  the  point  of  dashing  away.  Then 
he  stared  about,  while  his  mouth  dropped  open  and  his 
eyes  rolled  in  fright. 

Phil  Curtis  rose  into  view,  laughing  heartily. 

"  Serves  you  right,"  he  said,  and  he  advanced 
toward  the  fire.  '*  If  I  had  been  a  hostile  Indian,  I 
could  have  slipped  in  on*  you  and  had  your  scalp  with- 
out the  least  trouble." 

Ben's  face  flushed  scarlet. 

"You  scared  me  out  of  my  wits,"  he  confessed. 
"  Was  that  a  rock  you  threw  ?  I  didn't  know  what  it 
was,  or  where  it  came  from  ;  but  I'm  mighty  glad  to 
see  you,  I  was  afraid  the  Indians  had  captured  you." 
Then,  regaining  his  mental  equilibrium,  he  began  to 
laugh  too,  though  his  flushed  face  still  showed  how 
confused  he  was  and  how  sheepish  he  felt. 

"  I'm  awfully  glad  to  see  you,  Ben,"  said  Phil.  ''  I 
was  as  much  worried  about  you  as  you  could  possibly 
have  been  about  me.  I  even  sUpped  back  into  the 
village  to  find  out  if  they  had  made  a  prisoner  of  you. 
You  were  not  there,  and  then  I  began  to  fear  that  you 
might  have  ridden  in  the  wrong  direction,  deeper  into  the 
hills  ;  but  you're  all  right.     How  have  you  got  along  ?  " 

Ben   Allen's    story  was   short   and    soon   told.       He 


STARTLING   NEWS 


211 


had  wandered  about,  without  knowing  where  to  go, 
though  he  had  judgment  enough  to  seek  the  lower 
ground  all  the  time,  for  he  knew  that  would  lead  him 
by  and  by  out  of  the  hill  country. 

"But  how  did  you  build  a  fire?"  Phil  asked. 
''  I  didn't ;  it  was  already  built.  I  just  found  it 
here.  It  was  nearly  out,  and  I  stirred  it  up  again. 
I  didn't  Hke  that  cold  meat  I've  been  gnawing  on, 
and  I  thought  I  could  roast  it  or  warm  it  a  little  on 
the  coals,  so  that  it  would  taste  better." 

Phil  Curtis  looked  about  very  carefully,  and  then 
began  to  walk  slowly  round  the  fire  in  an  ever- 
widening  circle. 

"What  are  you  doing.?"  Ben  inquired. 
His  companion  came  back  to  the  fire,  as  he  made 
answer :  — 

"I'm  very  certain  this  fire  was  built  by  Cayuses ; 
very  Hkely  by  a  party  out  looking  for  those  ponies. 
It  may  have  been  another  party,  though,  belonging 
to  some  other  Cayuse  band." 

"What  makes  you  think  they  were  Cayuses.?" 
"  It's  partly  guesswork.  There  are  moccasin  tracks 
over  there,  in  that  softer  ground.  That  shows  they 
were  Indians.  It's  not  likely  there  are  any  Indians 
about  here  except  Cayuses.  That  is  why  I  said  they 
were  Cayuses." 


212  A   COURIER   OF  EMPIRE 

*'0h,"  said  Ben,  "it's  simple  enough  after  all!  It 
made  me  wonder  how  you  knew." 

Phil  Curtis  was  not  satisfied  with  the  survey  made 
in  the  vicinity  of  the  camp-fire.  After  bringing  up 
his  pony,  he  went  to  the  top  of  the  nearest  hill  and 
from  that  point  scrutinized  the  surrounding  country 
carefully.     Not  a  living  thing  was  in  sight. 

*•  Ben,"  he  said,  speaking  very  sternly,  as  he  re- 
turned, *'if  you  should  ever  be  out  in  the  hills  like 
this  again,  with  Indians  prowling  round,  let  me  warn 
you  now  never  to  build  a  fire,  unless  you  have  to  ! 
The  way  I  knew  you  were  here  was  because  I  saw 
your  smoke.  A  band  of  Indians  might  have  seen  it 
in  just  the  same  way.  They  could  have  crept  on  you 
as  easily  as  I  did.  Then,  if  they  had  been  hostile,  it 
wouldn't  have  been  pleasant  for  you." 

Phil  had  already  scattered  the  camp-fire,  so  that  the 
telltale  smoke  no  longer  rose  into  the  air. 

*'We  had  better  go  on  now,"  he  said,  "if  you  feel 
all  right  and  are  rested.  I  am  worried  about  Doctor 
Whitman." 

"Oh,  I'm  all  right,"  Ben  asserted,  and  he  hastened  to 
get  his  pony.  "  I  wish  I  had  a  saddle,  though.  I  never 
did  like  to  ride  bareback.  One  of  the  things  I  didn't 
like  about  the  farm  work  back  in  Indianny  was  that  I 
had  to  ride  my  plough  horse  bareback  to  the  corn-field." 


STARTLING   NEWS  213 

"You  could  have  walked,"  said  Phil,  laughing. 

"  Yes,  I  could  have  walked ;  but  I  was  too  lazy  to 
walk,  and  it  made  me  tired  to  ride.  But  where  do 
we  head  for  now  }     The  mission  }  " 

"Yes,  the  mission.  We  want  to  get  there  as  soon 
as  we  can." 

Phil  Curtis  took  the  lead ;  and  though,  so  far  as  he 
could  ascertain,  no  Indians  were  near,  he  tried  to 
exercise  due  caution,  and  impressed  the  necessity  of 
caution  upon  Ben. 

*'I  think  I  was  safe  enough  back  there,"  the  latter 
insisted,  when  the  camp-fire  had  been  left  behind. 
"  Lightning  doesn't  strike  twice  in  the  same  spot, 
they  say ;  and  for  the  same  reason  Indians  wouldn't 
come  twice  to  the  same  place,  I  suppose." 

"Eh,  what's  that.?"  cried  Phil. 

He  drew  in  suddenly  on  the  mane  of  his  pony. 
"Follow  me  down  this  hill,"  he  said.  "There's  some 
one  coming." 

They  turned  aside,  and  had  scarcely  secreted  them- 
selves when  a  young  Indian  came  into  view.  He  was 
running  at  a  swift  Indian  lope. 

"Why,  it's  Timuitti !  "  was  Phil's  exclamation. 

Then  he  rode  out  boldly  and  shouted  to  the  young 
Indian. 

Timuitti  stopped,   as  if  he  heard  a  voice  from  the 


214  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

sky.  Seeing  the  two  boys  before  him  he  came  up  to 
where  they  sat  awaiting  him  on  their  ponies.  His 
eyes  had  a  strange,  wild  look,  and  he  appeared  to  be 
greatly  excited.  Phil  saw  that  he  had  been  running 
a  long  distance. 

''  What's  up,  Timuitti }  "  Phil  asked. 

''  Dead !  "  said  Timuitti,  rolling  his  eyes. 

"  Dead  .?  "  Phil  questioned,  filled  with  a  sudden  sense 
of  impending  ill. 

"  It  was  not  Cayuse  fault,"  said  Timuitti.  "  It  was 
fault  of  the  half-breed,  Joe  Lewis." 

"What's  happened,  Timuitti.?  Who's  dead.?"  Phil 
demanded.     *'  Speak  up  and  tell  me  who  is  dead." 

"  Doct'  Whit'n  dead,"  he  said.  *'  Everybody  dead 
—  but  it  was  not  the  fault  of  the  Cayuses." 

The  heart  of  Phil  Curtis  seemed  to  rise  in  his 
throat  and  choke  him.  He  felt  the  tears  spring  to  his 
eyes,  and  his  sight  blurred.  Ben  Allen  was  equally 
startled  and  affected. 

"There  must  be  some  mistake  about  this,  Timuitti," 
said  Phil,  unwilling  to  believe  what  he  had  heard. 
"  Tell  me  about  it.  What  makes  you  think  that 
Doctor  Whitman  is  dead  } " 

"Me  there,"  said  Timuitti,  in  a  tone  to  drive  away 
all  doubt.  "  Me  there  the  day  before,  with  my  father, 
Tilskit.      My  father,  Tilskit,  say  to  Doct'  Whit'n  that 


STARTLING   NEWS  215 

the  Cayuses  have  black  hearts  against  him  ;  and  he 
tell  Doct'  Whit'n  better  go  away  some  place  until  the 
Cayuses  get  good  hearts  again.  Doct'  Whit'n  say  he 
no  go  away.  He  say  the  Cayuses  his  people,  that  he 
love  the  Cayuses  and  would  do  them  good ;  that  the 
Cayuses  need  him.     He  say  he  no  go  away." 

Timuitti  stopped,  hesitating.  The  whole  black  tragedy 
was  rising  before  the  imagination  of  Phil  Curtis. 

''And  what  then,  Timuitti.?" 

"That  half-breed  come  —  Joe  Lewis." 

"  And  there  were  Cayuses  with  him  ?  " 

"Yes,  many  Cayuses — Cayuses  with  black  hearts. 
And  they  kill  Doct'  Whit'n,  and  Doct'  Whit'n's  wife, 
and  a  great  many  other  people;  and  they  take  many 
other  people  away  with  them  into  the  hills." 

"  Can  you  tell  me  about  Cora  Carlton  —  if  she  was 
killed,  or  carried  away  ?  " 

Timuitti  did  not  know. 

Phil  Curtis  was  fairly  reeling  on  the  back  of  his  pony. 
The  thing  seemed  impossible.  He  had  long  known 
that  Doctor  Whitman  was  in  danger,  but  he  had  not 
let  himself  think  too  seriously  about  it.  Looking  round 
now,  as  if  to  get  some  hope  or  comfort  from  Ben  Allen, 
he  saw  that  Ben's  face  was  streaming  with  tears. 

"  It's  too  terrible  to  be  true,"  said  Ben.  "  I  can't 
believe  it." 


2i6  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

"  Tell  me  everything  you  can  about  it,  Timuitti,  and 
give  me  the  names  of  some  of  the  Indians  who  were 
there." 

Timuitti  complied  as  well  as  he  could.  Among  other 
names  that  he  mentioned  were  those  of  certain  mem- 
bers of  Whitman's  mission  church.  For  these  Indians, 
especially,  Marcus  Whitman  had  done  everything  that 
a  man  could  do.  For  the  half-breed  renegade,  who 
apparently  had  been  the  leader  of  the  miscreants.  Whit- 
man had  shown  marked  kindness.  He  had  taken  him 
into  the  mission  when  he  had  no  home ;  he  had  given 
him  food  and  clothing ;  he  had  assisted  him  in  every 
possible  way.     Yet  this  was  the  reward. 

"  Me  go  on  now,"  said  Timuitti,  turning  his  face 
toward  the  hills. 

He  was  anxious  to  be  away  that  he  might  convey  the 
tidings  to  the  village  of  Tilskit.  Phil  questioned  him 
as  to  what  had  become  of  his  father,  and  was  assured 
by  Timuitti  that  Tilskit  had  departed  from  the  Waiilatpu 
mission  many  hours  before  the  massacre.  He  believed 
that  his  father  had  gone  to  Walla  Walla,  but  was  not 
sure ;  but  as  for  himself,  he  was  hurrying  to  the  village 
in  the  hills,  and  was  anxious  now  to  continue  his 
journey. 

Phil  and  Ben  watched  Timuitti  as  he  climbed  the 
slopes  of  the  broken  land,  mounting  with  his  long,  easy 


STARTLING   NEWS  217 

Indian  lope,  and  disappearing  finally.  Then  they  rode 
on  slowly,  with  flushed  faces,  discussing  the  terrible 
news. 

'*  I  ought  to  have  left  Stikine's  village  many  days 
ago,"  said  Phil.  ''  Perhaps  if  I  had,  Doctor  Whitman 
would  have  listened  to  me  and  gone  away  to  some  place 
where  he  would  have  been  safe.  He  could  have  gone 
to  Walla  Walla,  or  down  the  Columbia  to  Fort 
Vancouver." 

"  He  wouldn't  have  believed  that  he  was  in  any  dan- 
ger," Ben  Allen  urged,  anxious  to  relieve  the  distress 
of  mind  under  which  he  saw  that  Phil  was  laboring. 

'*  No,  likely  he  wouldn't ;  but  I  should  have  felt 
better,  if  I  had  given  him  some  warning.  Doctor 
Whitman  never  understood  Indians.  Very  few  people 
can  understand  them  who  have  not  lived  for  a  long 
while  among  them.  I  know  that  he  has  been  told 
many  times  in  the  past  year  that  his  life  was  in  danger ; 
but  he  paid  little  attention  when  such  things  were  said 
to  him.  More  than  once  I  have  heard  him  laugh  when 
some  one  spoke  to  him  on  the  subject.  He  was  so  kind 
of  heart  himself  that  he  looked  only  for  kindness  in 
other  people." 

"  He  was  the  best  man  I  ever  knew,"  said  Ben  Allen, 
and  he  said  it  with  deep  feeling. 

"There's  one  thing  that  I  have  to  be  thankful  for," 


2i8  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

Phil  continued.  "  From  what  Timuitti  said,  no  one 
from  Stikine's  village  was  mixed  up  in  the  thing.  I 
don't  think  they  knew  that  any  movement  had  been 
definitely  planned  against  the  mission,  even  though 
they  were  booming  their  war  drum  last  night  and  mak- 
ing speeches  against  the  whites.  If  this  had  been  done 
by  Stikine's  Indians,  I  don't  think  I  could  have  ever 
forgiven  myself  for  not  getting  away  somehow  and 
giving  warning." 

The  news  of  the  terrible  massacre  at  the  Waiilatpu 
mission  made  Phil  Curtis  and  Ben  Allen  understand 
that  they  were  now  in  no  inconsiderable  danger  them- 
selves. The  story  would  run  like  wildfire  among  the 
Indians  of  Oregon.  It  would  probably  cause  an  upris- 
ing. Wherever  a  white  man  was  encountered,  the 
Indians  would  consider  him  an  enemy  and  show  him 
no  mercy. 

They  were  soon  given  confirmation  of  the  news 
brought  by  Timuitti,  and  further  details  concerning  the 
terrible  tragedy  at  Waiilatpu,  by  Tom  McKay,  whom 
they  encountered  in  the  open  plain.  McKay  was 
accompanied  by  half  a  dozen  mountain  men,  who  had 
ridden  at  hot  speed  from  Walla  Walla.  Information 
of  the  massacre  had  already  reached  that  place,  and 
was  being  borne  by  boatmen  down  the  Columbia  to 
Fort  Vancouver. 


STARTLING   NEWS  219 

"Terrible  news,  lad!"  said  McKay,  when  he  had 
struck  hands  with  the  two  in  greeting.  *'  Ye  have 
heard  it  ? " 

"  My  Indian  brother,  Timuitti,  told  us  all  he  could 
about  it." 

"It  was  terrible,  terrible!"  said  McKay,  and  the 
mountain  men  echoed  his  declaration.  "And  as  bad 
as  anything  is  the  news  about  the  women." 

"What  of  the  women.?"  said  Phil,  thinking  chiefly 
of  Cora  Carlton. 

"Whitman  and  his  wife  were  killed,"  said  McKay; 
"  but  a  great  many  girls  and  women  were  carried  away 
by  the  Indians  —  about  forty  all  together,  I'm  told.  It 
was  the  work  of  the  Cayuses.  They  got  away  before 
daylight  with  all  their  prisoners,  and  are  now  in  the 
hills.  Ay,  lad,  they  knew  they  would  be  followed,  and 
they  will  be  followed  !  " 

"  Have  you  been  to  the  mission  ?  "  asked  Phil. 

His  chief  thought  was  still  of  Cora  Carlton.  If  she 
were  a  prisoner,  she  might  be  rescued.  He  determined 
to  cling  to  that  hope  and  to  cherish  it  as  long  as  he 
could. 

"I  am  going  on  there,"  said  McKay.  "Will  ye 
ride  with  us,  lad  ?  But  some  of  us  are  going  back  to 
Walla  Walla  at  once." 

Phil  sat  on  his  pony  in  hesitation.     A  certain  sicken- 


220  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

ing  sense  made  him  feel  that  he  could  not  bear  to  look 
on  the  wreck  and  ruin  at  Waiilatpu. 

"I  will  ride  to  Walla  Walla,"  he  answered.  "We 
need  guns  and  ammunition,  Ben  and  I.  Then  we  will 
help  you  to  arouse  the  country.  Do  you  know  where 
my  father  is  ?  " 

"He  was  at  Walla  Walla  when  we  left.  Boy,  I  tell 
you  the  news  almost  killed  him  outright,  for  he  thought 
that  ye  had  been  at  Waiilatpu.  But  there  were  those 
at  Walla  Walla  who  knew  that  Whitman  had  sent  ye 
into  the  Cayuse  villages  to  play  medicine  man.  Your 
father  was  to  ride  down  the  river  and  carry  the  news  to 
the  settlers  in  that  direction,  when  we  came  away." 

"  We  will  ride  to  Walla  Walla,"  said  Phil.  "  We  must 
get  supplies,  and  I  wish  to  see  my  father." 

He  looked  earnestly  at  Tom  McKay  and  the  other 
mountain  men. 

"  Do  you  think  there  will  be  a  war  .-* " 

"There  will  be  a  war  against  the  Cayuses,"  said 
McKay.  "  Messengers  have  gone  to  Vancouver.  I 
wish  McLoughlin  was  still  chief  factor,  though  Peter 
Skeen  Ogden  is  a  good  man." 

He  looked  at  Phil  almost  fiercely. 

"  Lad,  if  any  one  ever  says  to  ye  that  the  White- 
headed  Eagle  of  the  Columbia  was  in  favor  of  such 
work  as  that  over  there  at  Waiilatpu,  tell  him  to  his 


STARTLING   NEWS  221 

teeth  that  he  lies.  Many  things  have  been  said  against 
old  John  McLoughlin  ;  but  he  is  a  man,  and  always  has 
been,  every  inch  of  him.  He  was  a  Hudson  Bay  man, 
and  did  not  like  the  coming  of  the  Americans ;  but 
there  is  brave  Scotch  blood  in  his  veins,  and  never  any 
deceit  in  his  heart ;  and  he  treated  the  Americans 
kindly,  and  lost  his  place  because  of  it." 

Phil  Curtis  could  agree  with  everything  that  Tom 
McKay  said  in  favor  of  Doctor  John  McLoughlin.  He 
knew  —  for  the  news  had  gone  far  and  wide  —  that 
McLoughlin,  in  the  goodness  of  his  heart,  had  done  so 
many  things  for  the  needy  Americans  along  the  Colum- 
bia that  dissatisfaction  had  arisen  against  him  at  the 
headquarters  of  the  Hudson  Bay  Company  in  London, 
and  he  had  been  displaced.  The  Company  did  not  look 
kindly  on  the  American  settlers.  It  wished  Oregon  to 
be  all  British  —  to  remain  as  it  was,  a  land  of  Indians 
and  fur-bearing  animals,  which  could  be  made  to  turn 
large  profits  into  its  own  coffers. 

Tom  McKay  and  a  few  of  the  mountain  men  rode  on 
to  the  mission  at  Waiilatpu.  The  other  mountaineers 
turned  back  toward  Walla  Walla,  accompanied  by  Phil 
Curtis  and  Ben  Allen,  whose  hearts  were  now  shadowed 
by  a  great  grief.  Phil  had  mourned  for  Elijah,  slain  in 
CaUfornia;  but  his  sorrow  over  the  death  of  Elijah  was 
as  nothing  compared  with  that  which  he  felt  now. 


CHAPTER   XIX 
CORA  CARLTON 

CORA  CARLTON  had  not  entirely  approved 
Doctor  Whitman's  action  in  sending  Phil  Curtis 
and  Ben  Allen  among  the  Cayuses,  and  ever  since 
their  departure  she  had  been  somewhat  uneasy  con- 
cerning their  safety. 

She  was  a  natural  teacher,  and  had  the  missionary 
spirit.  Therefore,  she  had  made  herself  an  invaluable 
assistant  to  Mrs.  Whitman.  She  loved  her  work,  and  re- 
joiced to  see  the  rapid  advances  in  education  made  by 
her  copper-skinned  pupils.  She  had  thought  that  they 
loved  her  in  return,  and  that  they  had  a  desire  to 
learn  the  many  things  which  the  white  men  knew.  The 
older  Indians  had  often  spoken  in  terms  of  praise  and 
approval  of  her  work,  and  declared  their  satisfaction 
in  seeing  the  younger  Indians  enter  upon  the  white 
man's  way. 

Recently,  however,  she  had  begun  to  doubt  and  to 
question.  There  was  a  growing  spirit  of  restlessness 
in  the  young  Indians  who  attended  the  school  at  the 
Waiilatpu  mission.     This  she  attributed  to  the  evil  in- 

2.ZZ 


CORA  CARLTON  223 

fluences  exerted  on  their  minds  by  the  inflammatory 
utterances  of  such  men  as  Dorion  and  Delaware  Tom, 
who  had  continually  harangued  the  Cayuses  in  an  effort 
to  rouse  them  against  the  whites. 

The  actions  and  the  words  of  her  pupils  when  the 
panic  broke  out  in  the  school  because  measles  had 
invaded  the  tribes  shocked  and  alarmed  her.  She 
began  to  see  the  Indian  character  in  a  new  light,  and 
perceived  that  even  those  pupils  who  had  seemed  so 
tractable  and  quiet  were  still  but  half-wild  savages 
filled  with  strange  and  deep  superstition.  One  by  one 
they  left  the  school,  with  open  abuse  or  veiled  cunning ; 
and  the  work  she  had  loved,  and  to  which  she  had 
given  so  much  of  her  time  and  energy,  seemed  to  be 
falling  to  pieces. 

Long  before  that  she  had  been  distressed  and  made 
uneasy  by  the  strange  actions  of  Matpah.  She  had 
shivered  and  cringed  when  she  knew  that  his  burning 
eyes  were  fixed  on  her,  yet  she  had  not  dared  to  order 
him  from  the  schoolroom.  Matpah  was  influential  with 
these  Indians,  for  he  was  the  son  of  a  chief,  and  it  was 
expected  that  he  would  one  day  become  a  chief  himself. 
Therefore,  she  had  spoken  kindly  to  him  whenever  it 
was  necessary  to  speak  at  all,  though  she  had  avoided 
him  as  much  as  possible.  But  Matpah  had  persisted  in 
following  her  about,  in  visiting  the  schoolroom,  where 


2  24  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

he  was  not  wanted,  and  in  speaking  to  her  in  a  way 
that  startled  her. 

After  that  unexpected  combat  between  him  and 
Phil  Curtis,  Matpah  had  disappeared  entirely  —  a  thing 
which  gave  Cora  great  rehef ;  yet  she  continued  to  fear 
him  and  his  influence.  She  heard  of  him  now  and  then 
through  Timuitti  and  others  of  her  pupils.  He  was  out 
in  the  hills  somewhere,  and  seemed  to  have  settled  into 
quiet;  but  he  had  become  the  avowed  enemy  of  Phil 
Curtis.  This  fact  tended  to  augment  her  uneasiness, 
when  Phil  and  Ben  Allen  remained  so  long  in  the  hills 
and  no  word  came  from  them. 

Measles  invaded  the  mission  school  itself,  attacking 
two  of  the  few  Indian  children  who  had  remained  faith- 
ful. All  of  the  children  then  left  the  school,  with  the 
exception  of  these  two,  who  could  not  get  away.  To 
them  Cora  Carlton  devoted  her  time  unselfishly,  watch- 
ing by  their  bedsides  and  caring  for  them  with  all  the 
patience  and  skill  of  a  trained  nurse. 

In  the  midst  of  these  disquieting  circumstances  came 
many  other  things  which  tended  to  destroy  her  peace  of 
mind.  Among  these  were  the  visits  which  certain  of 
the  Cayuse  chiefs  made  to  the  mission  for  the  purpose 
of  talking  with  Marcus  Whitman.  He  was  not  there  a 
great  deal,  for  he  was  very  busy  attending  to  the  needs 
of  the  sick  in  the  scattered  Cayuse  villages ;  but  when- 


CORA  CARLTON  225 

ever  these  chiefs  chanced  to  meet  him  at  the  mission, 
their  words  concerned  the  danger  that  he  was  now  in. 

*'  The  heart  of  the  Indian  is  very  bad  against  you," 
said  Tilskit,  who  was  one  of  these  visitors.  "  I  like  you, 
Doct'  Whit'n,  and  I  think  you  good  man.  You  better 
go  away  from  here  and  stay  a  long  time,  until  the  heart 
of  the  Indian  is  good  again.  It  is  very  black  now  — 
very  black.  I  think  you  better  go  to  Walla  Walla,  or 
down  to  Vancouver.  Cayuses  make  very  much  bad 
talk  now,  and  old  Tilskit  very  much  afraid  for  you." 

Spalding,  who  had  charge  of  the  mission  at  Lapwai, 
came  down  to  Waiilatpu  to  consult  with  Marcus  Whit- 
man concerning  the  serious  outlook.  The  Nez  Perces 
were  muttering  and  talking  in  much  the  same  way  as 
the  Cayuses.  Spalding  feared  an  uprising  of  the  Nez 
Perces.  Measles  had  broken  out  in  that  tribe,  and  the 
medicine  men  were  declaring  that  the  whites  were  the 
cause  of  it. 

It  was  on  the  occasion  of  this  visit  that  Spalding  and 
Whitman  spoke  of  sending  medicines  to  various  places 
where  Whitman  had  not  been  able  to  go  ;  and  it  was 
this  talk,  no  doubt,  which  the  Indian  boy  heard,  and 
which,  in  an  exaggerated  form,  flew  as  a  wild  report 
among  the  Indians  of  Oregon. 

Spalding  took  his  departure  the  next  day  for  Lapwai, 
and  Whitman  went  forth  again,  to  do  what  he  could  to 


226  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

assist  the  distressed  Indians  in  a  near-by  village.  He 
had  begun  to  feel  that  he  was  in  danger,  but  he  was 
not  willing  to  desert  what  he  considered  his  post  of 
duty.  He  took  with  him  almost  the  only  medicines 
that  remained,  and  instructed  Mrs.  Whitman  to  send 
to  Walla  Walla  for  another  supply. 

As  there  was  no  one  at  Waiilatpu  who  seemed  suffi- 
ciently reliable  to  undertake  this  mission,  Cora  Carlton 
volunteered  to  go  herself.  Though  the  distance  was 
forty  miles,  she  was  a  courageous  girl,  and  being  an 
accomplished  rider,  and  having  a  good  horse,  she  was 
sure  that  she  could  ride  there  in  one  day  and  return  in 
another.  It  was  a  trip  to  try  the  strength  of  the  hardi- 
est man ;  but  the  girl  heroine  undertook  it. 

The  journey  to  Walla  Walla  was  made  without  mis- 
adventure. Pierre  Pambrun  was  no  longer  the  agent  of 
the  Hudson  Bay  Company  at  that  post,  and  no  longer 
did  his  daughter,  Maria,  ride  out  over  the  crisp  bunch 
grass,  or  Hsten  to  the  song  of  the  boatmen. 

Nevertheless,  there  were  kind  hearts  at  Walla  Walla, 
and  the  agent  and  his  wife  listened  with  interest  and 
attention  to  Cora's  story,  and  gave  her  shelter  and 
hospitality  for  the  night.  They  were  troubled,  as  John 
McLoughlin  had  been  long  before,  by  the  distresses  of 
the  Indians  and  the  danger  of  the  whites. 

Cora  Carlton  felt  sufficiently  rested  to  undertake  the 


CORA  CARLTON  227 

return  journey  the  next  morning;  so  she  set  out  with 
the  medicine  which  had  been  given  her.  Having  ac- 
compHshed  the  greater  part  of  her  trip  without  mishap, 
she  was  filled  with  sudden  dismay  and  fear  when  she 
beheld  a  band  of  Indians  ride  into  view  in  a  hollow 
below  her  and  then  disappear  from  sight.  She  would 
not  have  been  so  frightened  if  they  had  come  straight 
on,  but  their  evident  attempt  at  concealment  was  not 
reassuring. 

Pulling  her  pony  out  of  the  trail,  she  began  to  ride  in 
a  detour.  Her  pony  was  fast,  and  if  she  could  pass 
them  she  felt  that  he  would  be  able  to  show  them  a 
clean  pair  of  heels  in  a  race  for  the  mission.  But  as  she 
was  picking  her  way  over  some  rough  ground  she  came 
face  to  face  with  two  Indians,  who  rose  up  from  behind 
a  rock  and  confronted  her.     One  of  them  was  Matpah. 

He  looked  into  her  face  with  an  evil  leer  and 
caught  her  pony's  bridle.  For  a  moment  Cora  Carl- 
ton felt  as  if  she  would  faint  and  fall  from  the  sad- 
dle. Matpah  and  his  companion  were  in  war-paint. 
Ordinarily  he  was  attractive,  as  Indians  go,  but  now 
he  looked  fierce  and  horrible. 

"You  marry  Matpah  now!"  he  said,  catching  her 
by  the  wrist.  ''  Matpah  chief  now !  Doct'  Whit'n 
dead.  All  dead  at  mission.  Phil  Curtis  dead  out 
in  hills." 


228  A  COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

The  news  startled  and  terrified  Cora  Carlton. 
Nevertheless,  she  tried  to  regain  her  courage,  and 
to  tell  this  sneering  young  chief  that  she  did  not 
believe  his  report. 

''  Let  me  go !  "  she  begged.  "  I  was  always  kind 
to  you  down  at  the  mission,  and  now  you  must  let 
me  go.  Mrs.  Whitman  will  be  waiting  for  me.  And 
there  are  Cayuses  there  whom  I  must  help.  I  have 
medicines  here  that  they  need." 

The  other  Indians,  who  had  been  in  hiding,  were 
galloping  up,  and  she  saw  them  surrounding  her. 

"  Doct'  Whit'n's  medicine  kill  Indian,"  declared 
Matpah,  fiercely.  "  Bad  spirits  in  medicine  bottles. 
They  make  Indian  sick ;  they  make  him  die.  But 
Doct'  Whit'n  dead  now ;  Doct'  Whit'n's  wife  dead. 
You  no  go  to  the  mission !  " 

The  mounted  Indians  surrounded  her  more  closely. 
She  looked  appealingly  from  one  painted  face  to 
another,  but  saw  nothing  to  give  her  hope. 

"  It  is  not  so ;  it  can't  be  so !  Doctor  Whitman  is 
not  dead !  You  Cayuses  would  not  kill  so  good  a 
man  as  Doctor  Whitman  !  " 

"Doct'  Whit'n  dead!"  repeated  Matpah.  "Now 
you  go  with  me." 

He  pointed  toward  the  distant  hills. 

"  Oh,  Phil !     Phil !  "  was  her  cry. 


CORA  CARLTON  229 

She  did  not  believe  that  Phil  Curtis  was  dead,  and 
she  could  not  bring  herself  to  beHeve  in  the  death 
of  Marcus  Whitman,  though  what  she  heard  a  little 
later  convinced  her  that  this  part  of  the  story,  at 
least,  was  all  too  true.  Proof  was  given,  when  a 
number  of  women  and  girls  were  brought  up  by  the 
Indians,  and  she  saw  among  them  some  of  the  white 
girls  from  the  mission. 

"Yes,  Doctor  Whitman  is  dead,"  they  told  her. 
"He  was  murdered  by  the  Cayuses.  Matpah  was 
one  of  the  leaders,  and  Joe  Lewis  was  another." 

The  shock,  when  she  knew  for  a  truth  that  the 
brave  missionary  had  fallen  at  his  post  of  duty, 
made  her  very  brain  reel;  yet  she  felt  that  she  her- 
self had  now  a  new  duty  to  perform.  Whatever 
terrible  thing  the  future  had  in  store  for  her,  she 
could  at  least  try  to  comfort  these  weeping  women 
and  girls.  If  she  could  do  no  more,  she  could  say 
a  few  words  that  might  cheer  them  and  make  their 
burden  less  heavy. 

Phil  Curtis  had  not  been  at  the  mission,  she  knew; 
and  deep  down  in  her  heart  was  a  hope  that  he  had 
escaped. 

"  Oh,  Phil !     Phil !  "  was  her  unuttered  cry. 


CHAPTER   XX 
MATPAH'S   DEFIANCE 

THAT  cry  of  Cora  Carlton  seemed  to  reach 
across  the  distance  to  Phil  Curtis.  Tom 
McKay  and  the  mountain  men  had  informed  him 
that  most  of  the  women  and  children  at  the  mission 
had  been  carried  away  into  captivity.  This  was  a 
terrible  fate,  he  knew ;  but  it  was  better  than  death, 
for  it  held  out  hope. 

Among  the  things  which  Tom  McKay  had  told 
him,  and  which  the  mountaineers  repeated,  was  that 
news  of  the  massacre  had  been  carried  to  the  legis- 
lature, then  in  session  at  Oregon  City,  and  that  the 
governor  had  issued  a  call  for  troops.  The  stern 
border  men  were  already  assembling,  and  McKay  and 
his  companions  had  been  riding  over  the  country  for 
the  purpose  of  rallying  others. 

"  It's  too  bad,  lad,  that  it  is  the  beginning  of  win- 
ter," McKay  had  said.  "  But  for  that  we  could  get 
help  from  California.  No  one  could  carry  the  news 
now  over  the  Sierras." 

230 


MATPAH'S   DEFIANCE  231 

Riflemen  were  gathering  at  Fort  Walla  Walla,  when 
Phil  Curtis  and  Ben  Allen,  with  the  mountain  men, 
reached  that  place.  That  night  John  Curtis  arrived, 
bringing  with  him  a  number  of  the  settlers  of  the 
Walla  Walla  valley.  Much  wild  war  talk  was  in  the 
air.  Other  riflemen  were  coming,  it  was  reported,  and 
soon  there  would  be  a  sufficient  force  to  give  battle 
to  the  united  bands   of  the   Cayuses  and  Nez  Perces. 

The  impatience  of  Phil  Curtis  outran  all  the  plans 
of  the  others.  His  thoughts  were  of  Cora  Carlton 
and  those  women  and  girls  carried  into  captivity.  So 
he  talked  to  some  of  the  younger  men.  They  did  not 
agree  with  him,  that  it  was  the  part  of  wisdom  for 
a  small  force  to  push  on  in  advance.  They  believed, 
with  John  Curtis  and  others,  that  it  would  be  better 
to  wait  until  a  sufficient  number  of  riflemen  had  massed 
at  Walla  Walla. 

''I  am  going  into  the  mountains  again,"  said  Phil, 
announcing  his  intention  to  Ben  Allen.  "  I'm  not  afraid 
to  go,  because  I  am  a  Cayuse  myself,  by  adoption.  I 
can't  ask  you  to  go  with  me,  though  I  should  Hke  your 
company." 

Ben  Allen  looked  at  him  in  amazement. 

"  Do  you  mean  it  ?  "  he  questioned. 

''I  certainly  do.  A  day  may  mean  a  great  deal. 
What  I  can  do  I  don't  know,  but  I  feel  that  I  can  do 


232  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

something.  I  can  rely  on  old  Tilskit  and  on  Pio-pio-mox- 
mox,  and  there  are  other  Cayuses  who  will  help  me.  If 
I  can't  do  anything  else,  I  can  find  out  where  the  pris- 
oners are,  and  go  to  them  and  save  them  from  as  much 
insult  and  cruelty  as  possible." 

If  Ben  Allen  had  been  wiser  in  the  ways  of  Indians 
and  had  admired  Phil  Curtis  less,  he  might  have  given  a 
different  answer.  As  it  was,  he  declared  in  his  enthu- 
siasm that  if  Phil  could  go  again  into  the  villages,  he 
could  accompany  him. 

Nevertheless,  Phil  did  not  start  out  without  consult- 
ing his  father.  He  explained  the  condition  of  things  as 
he  saw  it,  and  told  him  what  he  hoped  to  accomplish. 
John  Curtis  hesitated. 

"  Lad,  I  admire  your  bravery,  but  I  can't  say  that  I 
think  any  too  much  of  your  discretion.  It  may  be  safe 
for  you,  though;  so  I  will  not  say  that  you  shan't  go." 
It  was  as  much  of  a  consent  as  Phil  expected  to  get. 

John  Curtis  was  well  known  at  Walla  Walla ;  hence 
it  was  easy  for  him  to  secure  for  Phil  and  Ben  two  good 
rifles,  a  plentiful  supply  of  ammunition,  and  such  food 
as  they  could  carry.  He  also  obtained  for  them  proper 
accoutrements  for  their  ponies,  for  they  had  ridden  into 
Walla  Walla  without  saddles  or  bridles. 

Thus  fitted  out,  Phil  and  Ben  rode  out  from  the  post 
of  Walla  Walla  at  the  break  of  day,  and  headed  their 


MATPAH'S   DEFIANCE  233 

ponies  toward  the  hills,  where  the  snows  were  already 
lying. 

Phil's  first  objective  point  was  the  village  of  Tilskit. 
When  he  reached  it,  he  found  to  his  deHght  that  Pio- 
pio-mox-mox  was  there.  The  old  chief  was  still  in  sore 
sorrow  over  the  death  of  Elijah.  He  looked  away 
when  Phil  spoke  to  him. 

"My  heart  is  not  good  toward  the  white  man  any 
more,"  he  declared  sadly.  "  I  have  long  been  the  friend 
of  the  white  man.  I  was  the  friend  of  Doct'  Whit'n ; 
but  Doct'  Whit'n  is  dead  now.  I  did  not  kill  him.  I 
did  not  know  that  he  was  to  be  killed.  If  I  could  have 
done  so,  I  would  have  saved  him,  for  Doct'  Whit'n  was 
a  good  man.  Yet  Elijah  is  dead,  and  the  white  man 
killed  him !  So  my  heart  does  not  feel  right  toward  the 
white  man." 

Phil  and  Ben  stopped  in  the  lodge  of  Tilskit,  where 
they  were  greeted  warmly  by  old  Neekomy  and  by 
Timuitti.  Neekomy  declared  that  she  was  glad  to 
behold  her  son,  whom  she  had  not  seen  for  a  long  time. 
Tilskit  and  Neekomy,  in  answer  to  Phil's  questions, 
told  what  they  could  of  the  captives.  They  had  heard 
of  the  raid  on  the  mission,  of  the  death  of  Marcus 
Whitman,  and  the  carrying  away  of  the  women  and 
girls. 

"  Some  of  them  are  beyond  here,  in  the  village  of 


234  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

Matpah,  on  the  edge  of  the  Blue  Mountains,"  said  old 
Tilskit.  **  Matpah  is  chief  now,  and  you  will  do  well  if 
you  do  not  go  there.     It  will  not  be  safe." 

Phil  begged  that  Tilskit  would  accompany  him,  and 
take  with  him  a  number  of  his  most  influential  men. 
He  told  Tilskit  that  if  he  and  some  of  his  chief  men 
would  go  to  Matpah,  and  point  out  to  him  the  folly  of 
his  course,  it  might  have  a  good  effect  on  that  rash 
young  warrior. 

"  I  want  you  to  go  with  me  and  tell  Matpah  that  the 
white  men  are  arming  at  Walla  Walla  and  by  the  Colum- 
bia. They  are  gathering  there  by  dozens  and  scores. 
They  are  coming  with  their  long-shooting  guns.  There 
is  anger  in  their  hearts  because  of  the  thing  that  has 
been  done  at  Waiilatpu.  Matpah  will  be  punished  for 
that  thing.  If  you  will  tell  him  so,  he  may  believe  you, 
when  he  would  not  believe  me." 

He  made  this  appeal  also  to  old  Pio-pio-mox-mox. 
Both  Tilskit  and  the  Yellow  Serpent  shook  their  heads 
sorrowfully.  They  could  not,  or  they  would  not,  inter- 
fere with  another  chief  of  another  band.  They  claimed 
that  they  did  not  sympathize  with  Matpah,  nor  with  any 
of  the  chiefs  who  had  allied  themselves  with  him.  Yet 
they  would  not  hearken  to  Phil's  pleading. 

Somewhat  to  Phil's  surprise,  Matpah  himself  ap- 
peared   in    Tilskit's   village  before    this  interview  had 


MATPAH'S   DEFIANCE  235 

ended.  He  was  in  war-paint  and  feathers,  and  was 
accompanied  by  three  members  of  his  band.  He  had 
come  there  for  the  purpose  of  drawdng  Tilskit  into  the 
war  which  the  Cayuses  now  proposed  to  wage  against 
the  white  men.  His  eyes  flashed  with  anger  when  he 
saw  Phil. 

''  Boston  spoke  many  big  words  down  at  the 
Waiilatpu  mission,"  he  said,  as  he  stood  before  Phil  in 
all  the  glory  of  his  war  toggery.  "  Now  it  is  the  turn 
of  Matpah  !  The  young  Boston  was  a  fool  to  come  up 
here.  He  has  placed  himself  in  the  hands  of  the 
Cayuses.  Does  he  not  know  that  many  white  men  have 
been  killed,  and  that  many  prisoners  have  been  taken  ?  " 

The  anger  of  Phil  Curtis  burst  into  a  flame. 

"  I  know  that  you  are  a  scoundrel  and  a  murderer," 
he  declared,  as  he  stood  unflinchingly  before  the 
feathered  and  painted  chief  ;  "  and  I  know,  too,  that 
you  will  live  to  see  the  day  when  you  will  regret  what 
you  have  done  !  " 

Matpah  reached  forward  as  if  he  w^ould  smite  Phil  in 
the  face,  but  Tilskit  interfered. 

"  He  is  my  son  !  "  he  said  sternly.  "  Long  ago  he 
saved  the  life  of  Timuitti,  and  because  of  that  he  has 
become  my  son,  in  place  of  the  son  who  was  lost  in  the 
big  river.  He  is  here  in  my  lodge.  You  will  not 
strike  him.     He  is  the  white  Cayuse." 


236  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

Ben  Allen  had  sufficient  discretion  to  remain  silent 
throughout  this  wordy  encounter. 

"  Do  you  know  that  riflemen  are  gathering  at 
Walla  Walla  and  all  along  the  Columbia  River  ? " 
said  Phil,  speaking  directly  to  Matpah  the  words  he 
had  wished  Tilskit  and  Pio-pio-mox-mox  to  carry  to 
him. 

"Pah!"  sniffed  the  haughty  young  chief.  "The 
Cayuses  and  the  Nez  Perces  are  thick  as  the  leaves  of 
the  forest.  What  can  the  white  men  do  ?  Our  medi- 
cine men  will  make  their  guns  harmless  —  their  long- 
shooting  guns  shall  be  Hke  reeds  by  the  river.  The 
medicine  drums  are  booming  even  now.  If  your  ears 
were  larger,  you  could  hear  them." 

"  Matpah,"  said  Phil,  his  anger  breaking  out  again, 
"you  have  been  among  the  white  people  enough  to 
know  how  foolish  such  ideas  are.  If  you  trust  in  the 
power  of  the  medicine  men,  and  believe  that  the  Indians 
can  win  because  they  outnumber  the  whites,  the  time 
will  come  when  you  will  be  sorry  for  it.  You  have 
killed  Marcus  Whitman  !  That  cannot  be  undone  ;  but 
you  can  send  back  those  women  and  girls,  and  if  you  do 
that  the  anger  of  the  white  men  may  not  burn  so  hot 
against  you." 

"  Pah !  "  said  Matpah,  spitting  out  his  exclamation  as 
if  his  emotions  choked  him,  "  the  Boston  boy  talks  big ; 


MATPAH'S   DEFIANCE  237 

but  if  he  thinks  that  Matpah  and  the  Cayuses  with  him 
are  cowards,  let  him  lead  on  the  white  men." 

Nothing  was  to  be  gained  by  this  angry  discussion,  as 
Phil  soon  saw.  It  only  increased  the  stubbornness  of 
the  young  chief.  By  and  by  Matpah  went  away,  and 
Phil  observed  him  talking  with  some  of  the  head  men 
of  Tilskit's  village. 

"When  he  leaves  the  village,  we  will  follow,"  he  said 
to  Ben  Allen.  ''  Just  where  his  village  is  I  don't  know, 
and  these  Indians  don't  know  or  will  not  tell  me.  That 
is  a  thing  we  must  find  out  by  following  him." 

**I  can  see  that  we  shall  get  ourselves  into  trouble, 
and  a  whole  lot  of  trouble,"  was  the  statement  of  Ben 
Allen;  "but  I  have  come  so  far  with  you,  and  if  you 
will  go  on  I  will  go  too." 

In  the  firm  determination  to  move  out  of  the  village 
after  Matpah  when  he  departed,  Phil  tried  to  keep  an 
eye  on  him  so  long  as  he  remained.  Yet,  before  he 
knew  it,  Matpah  had  disappeared,  and  he  had  not  seen 
him  go. 


CHAPTER   XXI 
PHIL'S    COURAGEOUS   WORK 

AFTER  the  departure  of  Matpah,  Phil  had  an 
earnest  consultation  with  old  Tilskit.  The  chief 
had  been  in  a  wavering  mood,  and  his  mental  attitude 
was  still  unsettled.  His  Cayuse  sympathies  were  natu- 
rally with  his  people.  Yet  he  had  liked  Marcus  Whit- 
man, and  could  not  approve  of  the  massacre  and  the 
carrying  away  of  the  women  and  girls  into  the  hills. 
He  stated  as  much  to  Phil.  Timuitti  sat  by  during  the 
conversation,  in  which  he  now  and  then  took  a  part. 

"  My  son,"  said  the  old  chief,  before  the  talk  ended,  ad- 
dressing Phil,  "  I  do  not  think  it  was  wise  for  you  to  come 
again  into  the  hills.  It  was  very  bad  for  you  to  bring 
that  boy,  for  he  does  not  understand  the  ways  of  the 
mountains  nor  the  ways  of  the  Indians.  If  you  go  on 
with  him,  he  will  get  you  into  trouble." 

"  But  I  must  go  on  !  "  Phil  insisted. 

*'  It  is  bad,  all  bad,"  Tilskit  declared,  referring  to  the 
general  situation.  *'  I  do  not  know  what  you  can  do. 
The  Cayuses  are  gathering  about  Matpah,  and  they  will 

238 


PHIL'S  COURAGEOUS  WORK  239 

fight  But  if  you  will  go  on,  I  think  that  my  son 
Timuitti  should  go  with  you ;  but  you  must  do  nothing 
rash." 

When  Phil  acquainted  Ben  Allen  with  Tilskit's  state- 
ments, Ben  declared  that  he  was  willing  to  return. 

"You  can  follow  our  trail  back  until  you  meet  the 
mountain  men,"  said  Phil.  "  I  think  McKay  is  not  more 
than  a  day  behind  us.  You  can  tell  him  where  I  have 
gone,  and  hurry  him  on." 

Old  Tilskit  approved  of  this.  The  Cayuse  ponies,  on 
which  Phil  and  Ben  had  made  their  escape,  and  which 
they  had  ridden  to  Tilskit's  village,  were  now  exchanged 
for  others.  Phil  had  contemplated  making  this  exchange 
when  he  left  Walla  Walla.  Unpleasant  consequences 
might  follow,  he  knew,  if  while  riding  one  of  these 
ponies,  he  should  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  Cayuses  from 
Stikine's  village.  Even  though  Stikine's  people  had 
kept  his  pony  and  Ben's,  they  would  undoubtedly  accuse 
him  of  horse  stealing,  and  that  was  a  serious  thing. 

At  daylight  Ben  Allen  departed  from  the  village, 
mounted  on  one  of  the  ponies  procured  from  Tilskit. 
As  soon  as  he  was  gone  Phil  took  Timuitti  and  they 
began  a  search  for  the  trail  which  it  was  hoped  Matpah 
had  made  in  leaving.  They  found  nothing,  for  the 
young  warrior  had  been  crafty.  No  one  had  seen  him 
go,  so  far  as   Phil  could  ascertain,  nor  could  his  pony 


240  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

tracks  be  discovered,  though  this  last  was  not  so  strange 
when  it  is  remembered  that  many  ponies  were  kept  in 
and  about  the  village.  However,  Tilskit  was  able  to 
give  some  helpful  information,  and  he  pointed  out  what 
he  believed  to  be  the  direction  Matpah  had  taken,  and 
his  probable  destination. 

Timuitti  seemed  glad  to  be  able  to  help  his  white 
brother.  The  fright  he  had  shown  immediately  after 
the  massacre  had  passed  away.  He  had  loved  Marcus 
Whitman  as  well,  perhaps,  as  any  Indian  could  love  a 
white  man.  He  had  been  in  Whitman's  school,  and  was 
a  member  of  his  church.  The  massacre  had  horrified 
him,  and  thrown  him  into  a  fever  of  fear.  Cora  Carl- 
ton, who  was  one  of  his  teachers,  he  had  liked  very 
much,  and  he  could  not  say  things  sufficiently  bitter 
against  Matpah.  Yet  Timuitti  did  not  wholly  approve 
of  Phil's  present  course,  because  he  doubted  its  wisdom 
and  its  success. 

It  must  be  confessed  that  Phil  Curtis  himself  was  not 
quite  sure  what  he  should  be  able  to  accomplish.  He 
was  simply  driven  on  by  a  furious  determination  to  do 
something.  Thoughts  of  what  the  women  and  children 
might  "be  suffering  were  a  keen  stimulus. 

When  Phil  and  Timuitti  had  ridden  two  or  three  miles 
in  the  cold,  crisp  air  of  the  early  morning,  following  the 
general  direction  indicated   by  old   Tilskit,  they  came 


PHIL'S   COURAGEOUS  WORK  241 

upon  the  trail  of  a  rather  large  band  of  Indians.  There 
were  many  indications  to  show  that  these  were  Cayuses, 
and  that  they  had  stopped  at  that  point  for  the  purpose 
of  a  conference  or  consultation. 

"Matpah  meet  'em  here,"  said  Timuitti,  voicing  an 
opinion  which  Phil  had  already  formed.  "  They  come 
from  way  off  there — see  !  He  come  from  the  village  ; 
here  they  meet.     Now  they  go  on  together." 

This  broad  trail  of  many  Indians  Phil  and  Timuitti 
followed  carefully,  watching  lest  they  should  run  into  an 
ambush.  It  seemed  very  likely  that  Matpah  would  fear 
pursuit ;  and  in  that  case  he  might  try  to  set  a  trap  for 
his  pursuers.  Twice  during  the  forenoon  smaller  trails 
were  seen  to  join  this  larger  one. 

"  The  Cayuses  are  coming  together,"  said  Phil. 
"  They  are  gathering  a  large  force  at  some  point." 

*' There  be  big  fight  by  and  by,"  was  the  opinion  of 
Timuitti. 

Following  the  trail  patiently  and  cautiously  through- 
out the  forenoon  they  observed  other  evidences  that  the 
Cayuses  were  concentrating ;  and  just  before  nightfall 
Phil  discovered,  from  the  top  of  a  hill  to  which  he 
climbed,  a  considerable  village  in  the  valley  below.  As 
he  went  back  to  Timuitti  he  hoped  that  Matpah  and  the 
prisoners  were  in  that  village. 

Up  to  this  time  Phil  had  been  as  cool  as  a  veteran. 


242  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

Now  he  was  undeniably  nervous.  He  did  not  know 
what  to  do,  nor  what  he  could  do.  How  could  he 
aid  the  women  and  children,  even  if  they  were  in  the 
village  ? 

"  The  first  thing  to  find  out,  Timuitti,  is  if  I  am  right. 
To  do  that  I  shall  have  to  go  into  the  village  to-night." 

Timuitti  looked  at  him  with  shining  eyes. 

"  I  can  crawl  in,  if  you  stay  with  the  ponies,"  he 
suggested. 

The  thought  of  a  task  like  that  stirred  the  pulses  of 
the  Indian  boy.  Of  such  work  he  had  often  dreamed. 
His  earliest  recollections  were  mingled  with  fancies 
of  the  heroic  things  he  should  do  in  warfare  against 
enemies.  He  had  often  planned  how  he  would  creep 
like  a  lizard  upon  some  foe  ;  how  he  would  slip  into 
the  lodges  of  some  tribe  he  would  despoil ;  and  even 
though  the  village  which  Phil  had  seen  belonged  to 
members  of  his  own  tribe,  the  Indian  instinct  for  sur- 
prise—  which  has  played  so  great  a  part  in  Indian 
warfare  —  moved  within  him,  and  sent  the  blood  in  hot 
waves  through  his  veins. 

"  You  could  do  it  all  right,  Timuitti ;  I  haven't  a 
doubt  of  that,"  said  Phil. 

Timuitti's  face  showed  his  disappointment.  He  saw 
that  Phil  intended  to  go  himself. 

"Why  am  I  not  to  go  ? "  he  questioned. 


PHIL'S   COURAGEOUS   WORK  243 

Phil  did  not  wish  to  say  he  feared  to  trust  the  dis- 
cretion of  his  Indian  brother. 

**  I  think  it  is  better  that  I  should  go,  Timuitti.  I 
want  to  see  just  where  the  women  and  children  are ; 
how  everything  is,  in  fact.  When  I  come  back,  I  can 
tell  you." 

Phil  knew  it  would  not  be  safe  to  make  his  attempt 
until  a  rather  late  hour,  so  he  and  Timuitti  concealed 
themselves  and  their  ponies  as  well  as  they  could,  and 
lay  in  waiting.  They  had  not  made  a  fire  since  leaving 
Tilskit's  village,  and  they  knew  they  could  not  make 
one  now.  Therefore,  they  ate  the  cold  meat  they  had 
brought  with  them,  and  forced  themselves  to  be  content 
with  that. 

The  moon  was  rising  when  Phil  Curtis  began  his 
preparations. 

"You  must  turn  me  into  a  Cayuse,"  he  said  to  Timu- 
itti.    '*  I  shall  want  those  feathers." 

When  leaving  the  village  Timuitti  had  set  forth  in 
all  the  glory  of  Indian  war  gear.  It  would  have  been 
beneath  his  pride  to  go  otherwise.  Now,  at  Phil's  bid- 
ding, he  carefully  set  his  long  head  feathers  in  Phil's 
hair.  When  this  had  been  done  Phil  took  from  behind 
his  saddle  an  old  robe  and  drew  it  about  his  shoulders. 

*'  It  will  do,"  he  declared. 

Then  he  slipped  away  in  the  direction  of  the  village. 


244  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

The  silence  in  which  it  was  wrapped  had  already 
been  noted  and  commented  on  by  himself  and  Timu- 
itti.  If  this  were  a  gathering  of  warriors  who  expected 
soon  to  meet  the  whites  in  battle  array,  drums  would 
be  sounding ;  but  not  a  drum  boomed,  and  the  only 
thing  he  heard,  as  he  drew  near,  was  the  talk  of  women 
and  children. 

Circling  the  village  until  he  came  to  the  small  stream 
that  ran  through  it,  he  crept  into  the  shelter  of  the 
fantastic  shadows  cast  by  the  lodges.  He  soon  dis- 
covered that  very  few  warriors  were  in  the  village, 
though  there  were  many  women  and  children. 

"  The  prisoners  are  not  here,"  was  his  conclusion, 
and  he  felt  a  sinking  of  the  heart. 

He  was  not  willing  to  trust  to  this  belief,  however, 
and  he  continued  his  investigation.  Once,  when  he 
walked  from  the  shadow  of  one  lodge  to  another,  he 
was  accosted  in  a  sharp  tone  by  an  old  woman  who 
stood  in  an  entrance.  Phil  answered  in  the  Cayuse 
tongue,  hoping  to  allay  her  suspicions. 

"Who  are  you  .-^  "  she  persisted.  "And  where  are 
you  going  ?'' 

"  Must  a  warrior  answer  a  squaw,  just  because  it 
pleases  her  to  ask  a  question.-^"  was  the  reply,  given  in 
a  tone  of  anger.     "  I  am  seeking  Matpah." 

She  came  nearer  and  stared  at  him. 


PHIL'S   COURAGEOUS  WORK  245 

"  Where  have  you  been  —  asleep  ?  Matpah  is  not 
here!" 

"Yes,  I  have  been  asleep.     He  was  here!  " 

"  He  has  gone,"  said  the  woman. 

**  Where  has  he  gone  ?  " 

*'  I  cannot  tell  you.  His  trail  lies  over  there.  Those 
who  came  with  him  went  with  him.  You  were  a  fool 
not  to  know  that !  " 

Phil  Curtis  was  moving  on.  He  did  not  wish  to  con- 
tinue the  conversation,  or  have  the  old  hag  come  closer 
to  him.  Discovery  would  have  been  the  ultimate  result, 
and  that  would  have  been  troublesome. 

''  I  can  get  out  of  here  all  right,  even  if  they  do  dis- 
cover that  I  am  not  an  Indian,"  was  his  thought;  but 
he  was  not  ready  to  get  out. 

He  had  feared  to  ask  the  squaw  about  the  women  and 
children  who  had  been  taken  into  the  hills  as  prisoners. 
That  would  have  aroused  her  suspicions.  Therefore, 
he  continued  his  search  until  he  had  circled  the  entire 
village.  The  prisoners  were  not  there;  that  was  cer- 
tain ;  and  as  soon  as  he  was  sure  of  it  he  slipped  out  of 
the  village  as  quietly  as  he  had  entered,  and  hurried  off 
to  join  Timuitti. 

He  found  the  Indian  lad  in  a  state  of  much  excite- 
ment. 

**  White  men  are  coming!  "  was  his  announcement. 


246  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

"  How  do  you  know,  Timuitti  ?  " 

"  I  lie  on  the  ground  while  you  were  gone ;  a  good 
while  I  lie  on  the  ground.  Then  I  heard  a  tramp  of 
horses  away  off  there,  and  I  heard  the  jingle  of  a  bridle, 
and  then  talk  in  the  voices  of  white  men.  It  was  all 
very  low ;  and  if  I  had  not  lain  on  the  ground,  I  could 
not  have  heard  it.     Yet  I  know." 

Phil  Curtis  dropped  to  the  ground  instantly,  and  lay 
with  his  ear  pressed  to  the  earth.  At  first  he  heard 
nothing.  Then  there  was  borne  to  him,  as  it  were 
through  the  solid  earth,  a  low  '*  thud,  thud,"  as  of  horses* 
hoofs  striking.  By  and  by  he  heard  voices  of  white  men 
and  the  clink  of  a  gun  or  bridle. 

"You  are  right,  Timuitti,"  he  said,  leaping  to  his  feet. 
"  The  white  men  are  coming !  Get  your  pony,  and  we 
will  meet  them."    . 

He  was  now  as  much  excited  as  Timuitti.  He  had 
not  expected  the  party  to  arrive  so  soon.  The  ponies 
were  brought  up  in  haste,  and  Phil  and  Timuitti  set  off 
in  the  direction  from  which  the  sounds  had  seemed  to 
come.  When  they  had  travelled  some  distance,  they 
were  brought  to  a  sharp  halt. 

"Who  goes  there  }  "  was  the  question  they  heard,  with 
the  cUck  of  a  rifle  lock. 

"  Friends,"  said  Phil.     "  Whose  party  is  this  ?  " 

"  Tom  McKay's,"  was  the  answer.     "  Who  are  you  ?  " 


PHIL'S   COURAGEOUS   WORK  247 

"  Let  me  see  McKay  at  once.  I  am  Phil  Curtis,  and 
this  is  Timuitti  with  me." 

"We  knew  you  were  not  far  ahead,  lad,"  said  McKay, 
when  Phil  met  him.  -  It's  only  because  of  what  you 
did  that  we  have  come  on  so  fast.  I  mean  the  word 
you  left  for  us  at  Tilskit's  village,  and  the  word  that 
Ben  brought  to  us.  After  we  struck  the  big  trail  we 
came  on  without  trouble.  What's  ahead,  lad;  what's 
in  the  wind  ?  " 

Before  Phil  could  answer,  Ben  Allen  pushed  forward. 
'Tm  here,  you  see,"  he  said,  ''even  though  you  did 
send  me  back." 

Phil  directed  his  answer  to  Tom  McKay. 

"  There's  an  Indian  village  on  the  other  side  of  that 
hill." 

''Ay,  lad,  we  knew  that.  I  sighted  it  myself  from 
the  top  of  the  peak  yonder  before  sunset.  If  we  can 
get  near  enough  without  being  discovered,  we  intend  to 
strike  it  just  before  daylight." 

"  I  have  been  in  that  village,"  said  Phil. 

Then  he  began  to  tell  McKay  what  he  had  seen  and 
heard,  as  the  men  composing  the  command  crowded 
round  him  in  the  darkness.  He  could  see  but  few  of 
them,  and  even  those  he  could  distinguish  imperfectly ; 
yet  he  heard  now  the  voices  of  his  father  and  of  old 
Tilskit. 


248  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

"  Have  you  found  where  the  women  are  ? "  John 
Curtis  asked,  stepping  forward. 

Phil  could  only  tell  his  father  that  the  women  and 
children  were  not  there.  Then  he  related  in  detail  how 
he  had  crept  into  the  village,  and  what  he  had  there  seen 
and  heard. 

*'  It  is  good  for  me,  I  think,  to  go  to  that  village," 
said  Tilskit.  ''  Many  of  the  people  there  will  know  me. 
I  will  learn  what  has  become  of  the  prisoners." 

Timuitti  had  been  overjoyed  to  see  his  father.  The 
feehngs  of  Phil  Curtis  were  those  of  surprise  mingled 
with  delight.  He  thought  he  understood  why  old  Til- 
skit  had  come  on  with  this  party  of  Tom  McKay's.  The 
chief  was  anxious  for  the  safety  of  his  adopted  son,  the 
white  Cayuse. 

The  party  under  McKay,  Phil  now  learned,  was  but  a 
small  body  of  men,  that  had  detached  itself  from  the 
main  force  long  before  Tilskit's  village  was  reached,  and 
had  pushed  on  with  great  rapidity. 

Tom  McKay  had  intended  to  approach  as  near  as  he 
could  to  the  Indian  village,  and  then  to  charge  it  in  the 
wild  border  fashion.  This  his  men  would  have  done 
if  they  had  not  been  stopped  by  Phil  and  Timuitti.  It 
would  have  been  a  sad  mistake,  for  the  warriors  were 
gone,  and  only  old  men,  women,  and  children  remained 
behind.     Some  of  these  would  have  been  slain  without 


PHIL'S   COURAGEOUS   WORK  249 

doubt,  and  the  result  would  have  been  to  mcrease  the 
bitterness  of  the  Indians  against  the  whites. 

After  a  talk  the  mountain  men  under  McKay  decided 
to  remain  where  they  were  for  the  remainder  of  the 
night  and  to  determine  their  future  action  somewhat 
upon  the  report  which  old  Tilskit  should  bring  on  his 
return. 

Tilskit  came  back  within  an  hour.  He  had  been 
in  the  village,  and  had  talked  with  a  number  of  the 
Indians  there.  Thinking  it  was  unwise  to  tell  them 
that  a  body  of  mountain  men  was  near  at  hand,  armed 
and  threatening  revenge  for  the  capture  of  the  pris- 
oners and  the  massacre  at  the  Waiilatpu  mission,  he 
had  merely  claimed  that  he  was  passing  near,  and  see- 
ing the  village  had  stopped  to  make  some  inquiries 
concerning  certain  chiefs  whom  he  named.  One  of 
these  chiefs  was  Matpah. 

By  his  adroitness,  and  also  because  old  Tilskit  was 
not  suspected  of  having  designs  against  any  Cayuses, 
he  was  able  to  secure  a  much  greater  amount  of  in- 
formation than  Phil  Curtis  had  done.  He  found  out 
the  location  of  a  village  in  which  some  of  the  prisoners 
were  held,  and  also  that  Matpah  and  those  with  him 
were  supposed  to  have  gone  on  to  that  point,  stopping 
only  in  this  village  for  a  short  time. 

He   was   told   also    that   the    Cayuses  and  the    Nez 


250  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

Perces  were  assembling  in  large  numbers.  Most  of 
the  chief  men  and  warriors  had  declared,  or  were 
declaring,  in  favor  of  a  war  of  extermination  against 
the  whites.  They  had  come  to  believe  with  Dorion  and 
the  other  malcontents,  that  there  was  no  safety  for  any 
Indian  of  Oregon  if  the  white  settlers  were  allowed  to 
come  into  the  country  and  remain.  Therefore,  to  the 
Indian  mind,  the  only  thing  to  do  was  to  kill  the  white 
people. 


CHAPTER   XXII 
THE  CHIEF  FACTOR'S  MESSAGE 

TOM  McKAY'S  men  broke  camp  while  the 
stars  were  yet  shining,  swung  in  a  big  circle 
round  the  village,  and  by  the  time  the  sun  rose,  were 
well  on  their  way  in  the  direction  v^hich  Tilskit  pointed 
out.  They  pursued  hard  and  fast  on  the  heels  of 
Matpah  and  his  Indians,  and  that  afternoon  came  in 
sight  of  what  was  undoubtedly  the  village  in  which 
some  at  least  of  the  prisoners  were  held.  Here  were 
many  lodges  and  ponies,  and  warriors  in  considerable 
numbers. 

When  this  village  was  discovered  Tom  McKay 
called  a  halt,  and  an  earnest  consultation  followed.  He 
was  in  favor  of  peaceable  measures,  if  these  could  be 
used. 

"  I  will  go  forward  into  the  village  myself,"  he  said, 
''taking  with  me  Tilskit  and  two  or  three  others.  I 
think  our  young  friend,  Phil  Curtis,  would  be  a  good 
one  to  accompany   us,  for   the  Cayuses  think  well  of 

2^1 


252  A   COURIER  OF   EMPIRE 

him.     If  we  should  make  an  attack,  some  of  the  cap- 
tives would  be  killed." 

"  Ay,  but  be  ready  for  an  attack,"  said  John  Curtis, 
stoutly.  "  We  will  be  ready  for  fighting,  if  fighting  is 
to  be." 

John  Curtis  remained  behind  with  the  small  body  of 
mountain  men  and  held  them  in  readiness  for  instant 
action,  whether  that  action  should  take  the  form  of  a 
defence  against  an  attack,  or  should  be  an  assault  to 
rescue  McKay  and  those  who  had  gone  on  in  advance. 

Phil  Curtis  was  not  pleased  on  entering  the  village 
to  discover  old  Waskema  there.  The  whites  had  no 
more  active  and  malignant  enemy  than  this  ubiquitous 
old  squaw.  Wherever  there  was  discontent,  she  was 
present  to  increase  it.  She  took  fierce  delight  in  fan- 
ning the  fires  of  hate.  Now  she  was  here,  when  Phil 
had  thought  her  far  away  in  the  village  of  Stikine. 

The  entrance  of  Tom  McKay  and  his  companions 
into  the  village  threw  her  into  a  fury.  As  the  thrill  of 
excitement  occasioned  by  their  appearance  ran  from 
lodge  to  lodge,  and  the  Indians  began  to  gather,  she 
drew  herself  up  in  front  of  Tom  McKay  and  Phil 
Curtis,  and  pointing  her  finger  at  Phil  began  to 
denounce  him  bitterly. 

'*  He  calls  himself  the  white  Cayuse,  and  says  that 
he  loves  the  Indians  ;  yet  he  it  was  that  brought  the 


THE   CHIEF   FACTOR'S   MESSAGE  253 

bottled  spirits  into  the  village  of  Stikine,  causing  the 
people  to  die.  He  it  was  that  threw  Taulicah  into  a 
deep  sleep  when  he  stood  guard  at  the  lodge  entrance, 
—  a  sleep  like  unto  death,  —  which  would  have  been 
death  but  for  the  power  of  the  medicine  man,  Umtippi; 
and  now  he  comes  here  to  cast  his  spells  upon  the 
Cayuses  of  this  village." 

The  bent  form  of  the  old  hag  quivered  as  she  shook 
her  finger  in  Phil's  face  and  delivered  her  scathing 
denunciations. 

Nevertheless,  Tom  McKay  stood  boldly  before  the 
old  woman  and  the  medicine  men  who  had  come  up  to 
support  her  by  their  presence. 

"  It's  a  lie !  "  he  said,  and  he  spoke  in  hot  wrath. 
**  But  I  have  not  come  here  to  bandy  words  with 
Waskema  or  any  one  else." 

Tom  McKay  was  a  commanding  figure,  and  his  keen 
eyes  seemed  to  flash  fire  as  he  looked  round  on  the 
encircling  Cayuses. 

"  I  do  not  say  that  any  one  here  has  been  guilty,  but 
some  one,  —  and  they  were  Cayuses,  —  led  on  by  that 
devil,  Joe  Lewis,  killed  Doctor  Whitman  and  his  wife 
and  a  great  many  other  people,  and  have  carried  away 
many  prisoners.  Where  those  prisoners  are  we  do 
not  know,  but  we  beUeve  that  some  of  them  are  right 
here." 


254  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

There  were  cries  of  denial  and  derision. 

"  Go !  "  said  Waskema,  pounding  with  her  crooked 
stick.  "The  Cayuses  know  you,  Tom  McKay,  and 
they  do  not  want  you!     There  are  no  prisoners  here!  " 

"  Hear  ye !  "  cried  McKay,  speaking  with  unbend- 
ing sternness.  "Behind  me,  back  there,"  —  he  waved 
a  hand  in  the  direction  of  the  force  he  had  left,  —  "  are 
mountain  men.  They  have  not  come  here  to  fight. 
I  have  not  come  here  to  fight ;  I  came  to  talk  with  you, 
and  talk  with  you  I  will.  I  will  have  my  say.  Ay,  I 
will  tell  you  to  your  teeth  just  what  I  think.  Ye  are 
fools,  ye  Cayuses  !  We  are  few  here ;  but  away  on  the 
Walla  Walla,  and  on  the  Columbia,  are  many  white 
men.  Do  you  think  they  will  sit  quietly  in  their  warm 
lodges,  while  the  wind  blows  cold  here  in  the  hills  and 
the  snow  threatens,  if  you  hold  as  prisoners  those  who 
have  been  carried  away  by  you  ?  I  tell  you,  they  will 
not!" 

"  Go  !  "  repeated  old  Waskema.  '*  Dogs  of  white 
men,  go;  we  do  not  want  you!" 

"Ay,  you  shall  listen  to  me!"  Tom  McKay  thun- 
dered. "  I  have  known  you  a  long  time,  Waskema. 
I  have  been  in  these  mountains  through  many  winters, 
and  I  have  seen  the  grass  starting  green  many  springs 
in  the  valleys  of  Oregon.  I  know  you,  and  I  do  not 
fear  you ;  but  I  want  to  say  to  you  this :  I  have  been 


THE    CHIEF   FACTOR'S   MESSAGE  255 

sent  here  by  Peter  Skeen  Ogden,  the  Hudson  Bay 
chief  factor.  He  gives  out  this  word  to  all  the  chiefs 
of  the  Cayuses,  and  of  the  Nez  Perces,  and  of  all  other 
tribes  which  are  now  threatening  to  raise  their  hands 
against  the  white  men.  He  says  to  you :  *  You  have 
prisoners  taken  from  the  Waiilatpu  mission  and  other 
places.  Come  to  me  at  Walla  Walla,  and  I  will  talk 
with  you.  Come  to  me  without  delay.'  That  is  the 
message  which  he  has  commanded  me  to  deliver." 

*'  What  then  .?  "  demanded  an  old  chief.  "  What  if 
we  go  to  Walla  Walla  ?  ^  He  will  throw  us  into  the 
prison  there." 

'*Ye  know  Peter  Skeen  Ogden,"  said  Tom  McKay. 
"  For  twenty-five  years  ye  have  known  him.  He  is  a 
man  of  his  word.  He  calls  you  to  meet  him  at  Walla 
Walla.  He  will  hold  back  the  white  men  who  are 
gathering  with  long-shooting  guns  in  their  hands.  He 
will  tell  them  to  stay  in  their  warm  houses ;  but  you 
must  come  to  Walla  Walla.  If  you  do  not  come,  he 
cannot  hold  back  the  Americans,  for  they  are  very 
angry,  and  their  hearts  are  already  black,  because  of 
this  thing.  Will  you  come  to  Walla  Walla,  and  meet 
him .? " 

The  fiery  demeanor  of  old  Tom  McKay  was  not 
without  its  effect,  even  on  Waskema.  The  listening 
chiefs  knew  when  he  delivered  that  message  from  Ogden 


256  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

it  meant  something.  The  factor  was  a  man  of  his 
word.  For  many  years  he  had  bought  their  furs ;  he 
had  sold  them  goods;  he  had  counselled  with  them. 
For  many  years  he  had  gone  to  and  fro,  up  and 
down  the  Columbia,  and  through  the  mountains  of 
Oregon.  They  knew  him,  they  respected  him,  and 
they  feared  him.  Therefore,  this  message  delivered  by 
Tom  McKay  was  of  stern  import. 

*' We  will  consider  this  thing,"  said  one  of  the  chiefs. 
"  When  is  it  that  the  chief  factor  wishes  us  to  meet  him 
at  Walla  Walla  .?  " 

"  At  once,"  McKay  answered.  "  Send  word  to  all 
the  chiefs  that  he  will  meet  them  at  Walla  Walla  at 
once ;  and  tell  them  that  it  is  concerning  this  thing 
which  has  been  done  to  the  people  of  the  mission  at 
Waiilatpu,  and  the  prisoners  which  the  Cayuses  and 
the  Nez  Perces  now  hold.  Tell  them  that  if  they  come, 
Ogden  will  hold  back  the  Americans;  but  if  they  do 
not  come,  he  cannot  hold  them  back." 

For  a  long  time  Tom  McKay  talked  to  the  Indians  of 
that  village.  Phil  Curtis  sat  silent  beside  him,  as  did  the 
others  who  accompanied  him.  McKay  was  spokesman, 
and  he  was  able  to  address  the  Indians  with  authority. 

The  chiefs  and  head  men  conferred  together. 

''We  will  send  out  the  word  you  wish,"  they  an- 
swered finally.     ''  We  ourselves  will  go  to  Walla  Walla, 


THE   CHIEF   FACTOR'S   MESSAGE  257 

and    we   will   try  to    get  the  other   chiefs  to  go.     We 
know  that  Ogden  is  our  friend." 

Tom  McKay  knew  how  far  it  was  safe  to  attempt  to 
go  in  his  dealings  with  these  Indians.  If  they  would  go 
to  Walla  Walla,  he  believed  that  Ogden  would  be  able 
to  effect  the  release  of  the  captives.  On  the  other  hand, 
if  the  settlers  who  were  rallying  at  the  trading  post  and 
along  the  Columbia  should  march  to  attack  the  Ca- 
yuses,  the  death  of  the  prisoners  would  be  the  result. 

As  McKay  with  his  companions  departed  from  the 
village,  they  moved  away  with  the  utmost  boldness, 
scorning  fear  or  danger,  for  they  knew  that  an  appear- 
ance of  great  courage  impresses  the  Indian  mind. 
Nevertheless,  as  soon  as  McKay  reached  the  force 
which  had  been  left  behind,  he  ordered  an  immediate 
and  rapid  retreat.  He  did  not  want  to  attack  these 
Indians,  nor  to  be  attacked  by  them.  The  shedding 
of  blood  on  either  side  would  be  fatal  to  his  hopes. 
His  only  desire  now  was  to  secure  the  release  of  the 
prisoners. 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

THE   CONFERENCE   AND   ITS   RESULT 

THE  words  of  Tom  McKay  in  that  village  bore 
fruit.  The  Indian  chiefs  and  leading  men  be- 
gan to  come  together  at  Walla  Walla.  The  fiery  words 
of  Matpah  and  the  rasping  denunciations  of  old  Was- 
kema  could  not  keep  them  from  assembling  to  talk 
with  their  old  friend,  the  famous  fur  trader. 

Phil  Curtis  watched  their  faces  as  they  came  riding 
in  from  the  villages  on  their  ponies.  Old  Tilskit  was 
there,  with  his  heart  warm  for  the  white  men,  and  espe- 
cially for  his  white  son,  Phil  Curtis.  Pio-pio-mox-mox 
came  also.  Phil  was  touched  when  he  saw  him,  for 
the  friendly  chief  looked  old  and  bent  since  the  death 
of  his  son.  Black-faced  Tiloukaikt  came,  with  treachery 
in  his  heart ;  and  Five  Crows  appeared  also.  Nearly 
all  the  chiefs  and  leading  men  were  there ;  but  Matpah 
stayed  away,  nursing  his  wrath  in  the  heart  of  the  hills. 

The  weather  had  turned  cold,  for  winter  had  now  set 
in  fully,  and  snow  began  to  fly  as  the  Indians  assembled. 
They  talked  much,  gathering  round  the  great  fire  which 

258 


THE    CONFERENCE   AND    ITS   RESULT        259 

blazed  and  crackled  on  the  hearth.  Peter  Skeen  Ogden, 
now  the  chief  factor  of  the  Hudson  Bay  Fur  Company, 
passed  from  one  to  another  with  kind  words,  shaking 
each  by  the  hand,  but  said  little  on  the  subject  that  was 
uppermost  in  the  thought  of  all.  The  time  had  not 
come  for  formal  speech. 

When  it  seemed  that  all  the  chiefs  and  head  men  who 
intended  to  come  were  there,  Ogden  had  a  large  quantity 
of  presents  brought  out.  Blankets,  guns  and  ammuni- 
tion, hatchets,  beads,  looking-glasses,  things  dear  to  the 
Indian  heart,  were  spread  out  on  the  floor,  that  the 
redmen  might  see  and  covet  them.  How  the  eyes  of 
the  chiefs  and  head  men  glistened  ! 

"  I  have  sent  for  you,  and  I  have  come  a  long  way 
myself  from  Vancouver,  that  \\q  might  talk  together  as 
brothers,"  said  Ogden.  "  I  regret  that  all  the  chiefs  I 
asked  for  are  not  here,  two  being  absent.  I  shall  expect 
you  to  report  my  words  to  them  and  to  your  young  men 
on  your  return  to  your  villages." 

The  Indians  had  ceased  to  look  at  the  presents  and 
looked  now  at  the  speaker. 

*'  It  is  thirty  years  since  I  first  came  among  you,  and 
during  that  long  period  no  blood  has  been  spilt  until  the 
inhuman  massacre  at  Waiilatpu.  You  know  me  as  a 
trader  of  a  different  nation  from  the  Americans.  I  have 
long  bought  your  furs,  and  have  supplied  you  with  am- 


26o  A    COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

munition  ;  but  I  did  not  give  you  ammunition  with  which 
to  kill  the  Americans.  They  are  of  the  same  color  as 
the  Hudson  Bay  men,  they  speak  the  same  language, 
and  are  children  of  the  same  God.  Our  hearts  bleed 
when  we  know  that  you  have  used  them  so  cruelly.  I 
speak  to  you  as  a  brother.  I  hope  that  none  of  the 
chiefs  here  had  a  part  in  that  terrible  thing.  Some  of 
you  have  said  to  me  that  your  young  men  did  it ;  but  is 
it  not  your  duty  to  hold  your  young  men  in  check  ?  Why 
are  you  chiefs,  if  you  have  no  control  over  them  .? " 

He  turned  with  flashing  eyes  to  the  younger  ones 
present. 

"  You  young  men,  I  know  you  pride  yourselves  on 
your  bravery,  and  think  that  no  one  can  match  you  ;  but 
let  me  tell  you  that  you  must  not  deceive  yourselves. 
If  you  get  the  Americans  to  begin  fighting,  you  will 
repent  it,  and  war  will  not  end  until  every  one  of  you  is 
cut  off  from  the  face  of  the  earth.  You  have  listened 
to  lying  words.  It  has  been  told  to  you  that  your  friends 
and  relatives  have  died  through  sickness  produced  by 
spells  which  some  Americans  cast  on  them.  It  is  said 
they  were  poisoned.  Let  me  tell  you,  it  was  not  Doctor 
Whitman  who  poisoned  them  ;  but  it  was  God  who  com- 
manded that  they  should  die.  If  we  fall  sick,  and  it  is 
God's  wish  that  we  die,  we  die  ;  but  Doctor  Whitman  had 
nothing  to  do  with  that." 


THE   CONFERENCE   AND   ITS   RESULT       261 

Ogden  was  speaking  with  great  earnestness,  and  the 
Indians  were  Listening  to  him  with  open  ears. 

**I  want  to  say  to  you  that  the  Hudson  Bay  men  can 
only  advise  you.  I  am  here  merely  to  advise  you.  We 
have  nothing  to  do  with  this  matter,  so  I  can  promise 
you  nothing ;  but  I  will  use  my  influence  to  keep  the 
Americans  from  attacking  you  in  your  villages.  As  for 
myself  and  the  Hudson  Bay  Company,  we  must  remain 
neutral.  I  will  do  all  I  can  to  prevent  war ;  but  if  you 
would  help  me  to  prevent  it,  you  must  deliver  up  to  me 
all  the  prisoners  which  are  now  held  among  you.  I  will 
pay  you  for  them  when  they  are  delivered  to  me  here, 
and  I  do  not  want  it  said  among  you  afterward  that  I 
deceived  you.  Bring  me  the  prisoners,  and  I  will  pay  for 
them,  and  I  will  hold  back  the  anger  of  the  Americans." 

For  a  little  while  after  Ogden  ceased  speaking  the 
Indians  were  silent.     Then  Tauitau  arose  to  reply. 

'*  You  must  not  think  too  harshly  of  us,"  he  urged, 
in  a  tone  of  apology.  *'  Our  young  men  are  strong- 
headed.  The  good  chiefs  that  we  had  are  laid  in  the 
dust.  Foolishness  has  crept  into  the  hearts  of  many  of 
our  head  men.  No  talk  of  war  with  the  whites  was  ever 
heard  until  now.  As  for  myself,  I  am  willing  to  give 
up  any  prisoners  that  are  held  among  my  people." 

Tiloukaikt,  the  black-faced  chief,  made  answer  in 
much  the  same  strain. 


262  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

The  sight  of  those  presents  lying  on  the  floor  of  the 
fort  helped  to  influence  the  chiefs  and  head  men  to 
consider  the  surrender  of  the  prisoners ;  and  no  doubt 
the  thought  of  the  vengeance  of  the  Americans,  who 
had  been  roused  by  the  death  of  Marcus  Whitman  and 
so  many  others,  was  also  a  strong  determining  factor. 
All  the  chiefs  present  promised  that  they  would  sur- 
render the  prisoners  held  in  their  villages.  Then  they 
took  their  presents,  with  many  indications  of  childish 
joy,  and,  mounting  their  ponies,  they  rode  away. 

Before  Tilskit  departed  Phil  Curtis  had  a  talk  with 
him. 

"  Yes,  I  will  seek  out  Matpah,"  said  the  chief.  *'  That 
was  in  my  mind.     I  will  ride  straight  to  his  village." 

Tilskit  was  as  good  as  his  word. 

It  was  Christmas  Eve  when  he  rode  away  through  the 
newly  fallen  snow,  and  it  was  Christmas  night  when  he 
stood  talking  with  Matpah  before  the  lodge  in  which 
Cora  Carlton  was  held  as  a  prisoner.  She  heard  him 
speak  her  name  before  the  lodge  door. 

What  she  had  suffered  during  her  captivity,  of  terror, 
of  foreboding,  of  actual  distress  from  the  long  journey 
and  the  increasing  cold,  no  one  can  know.  She  had 
been  terrified,  too,  by  Waskema  and  by  other  fiendish 
old  women  of  the  Cayuse  tribe,  who  had  seemed  to  her 
excited  imagination  determined  to   put  her  to  instant 


THE    CONFERENCE   AND    ITS   RESULT        263 

death.     But    she    had    not    suffered    more   than   other 
prisoners. 

When  she  heard  her  name  on  the  Ups  of  an  Indian, 
and  that  name  pronounced  in  kindness,  she  leaped  up 
with  eager  trembUng  from  the  roll  of  skins  which  was 
her  cot. 

Matpah  had  been  kind  to  her,  more  so  than  she 
had  expected  from  his  manner  at  the  time  of  her  cap- 
ture. He  had  seemed  to  recall  something  of  those 
civilized  touches  given  to  the  Indians  at  the  Waiilatpu 
mission.  He  apparently  recognized  that  this  white 
girl  was  not  accustomed  to  the  brutal  treatment  which 
squaws   accept   without   murmuring. 

Cora  Carlton  had  scarcely  risen  to  her  feet  when 
Matpah  came  into  the  lodge,  accompanied  now^  by  Til- 
skit.  The  latter  had  delivered  the  message  sent  out  by 
Peter  Ogden,  and  Matpah's  adherents  were  wavering. 
Even  the  fierce  medicine  men,  now  that  their  passions 
had  had  time  to  cool,  appeared  to  be  afraid  of  the  anger 
of  the  Americans.  Matpah  had  discovered  that  the 
older  chiefs  and  head  men  would  not  stand  by  him  in 
a  fight  against  the  whites. 

Old  Tilskit  looked  at  the  white  girl  as  if  to  assure 
himself  that  she  was  the  one  he  sought ;  then  he  went 
outside. 

"  Ogden  has  sent  for  you,"  Matpah  announced;  "but 


264  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

Matpah  wants  you  to  remain.  If  you  will  stay,  all 
these  horses,  all  these  cattle  on  the  hills  and  in  the 
meadows,  and  all  the  skins  that  I  have,  shall  be  yours. 
All  these  other  women  shall  be  your  slaves." 

Cora  Carlton  looked  at  the  passionate  young  Indian 
with  his  flushed  cheeks  and  blazing  eyes. 

*'  I  cannot  stay,"  she  declared.  "  I  should  die  here  — 
I  am  dying  here  !  " 

Outside,  at  the  lodge  door,  the  ponies  of  Tilskit 
stamped  impatiently.  Tilskit's  voice  was  also  heard. 
He  had  come  for  the  prisoner,  he  said,  at  the  command 
of  Peter  Skeen  Ogden.  He  had  a  long  distance  to  go. 
Plainly,  he  was  not  inclined  to  delay. 

Cora  Carlton  took  a  step  toward  the  lodge  door.  For 
an  instant  it  seemed  that  Matpah  would  detain  her  by 
force.     He  stood  in  hesitation. 

"  I  will  go  with  you  to  the  lodges  of  the  white 
people,"  he  said. 

''  No,"  she  answered ;  and  she  passed  him  swiftly. 

Outside  was  old  Tilskit,  and  with  him  she  saw  Tim- 
uitti,  whom  she  knew  well.  Both  smiled  upon  her. 
The  cold  air  outside  was  Hke  the  tonic  of  wine.  Lib- 
erty was  before  her,  beyond  those  hills.  She  glanced 
back  in  terror,  almost  fearing  that  Matpah  would 
appear   and   drag   her   back   into   the   lodge. 

Timuitti  had  slipped  to  the  ground  and  was  pointing 


THE   CONFERENCE   AND   ITS   RESULT        265 

to  one  of  the  ponies,  on  which  was  a  woman's  saddle, 
brought  from  Walla  Walla.  Tilskit  also  slid  down,  and 
between  them  they  assisted  her  to  mount  to  the  back  of 
the  restive  animal.  Many  Indians  stood  about,  but  all 
at  respectful  distance,  except  Matpah,  who  had  come  to 
the  door  of  his  lodge,  and  was  looking  out  at  her  mourn- 
fully and  even  angrily. 

"  You  will  go  ?  "  he  said.  "Have  I  not  treated  you 
well .? " 

She  did  not  stop  to  reply.  Wise  old  Tilskit  had  the 
ponies  already  in  motion.  He  understood  the  change- 
able nature  of  such  a  man  as  Matpah.  It  might  please 
the  young  chief  to  alter  his  determination  and  bid  defi- 
ance to  Peter  Skeen  Ogden  and  the  Americans.  In 
that  case,  he  would  detain  the  girl,  and  Tilskit's  mission 
would  be  a  failure. 

At  the  edge  of  the  village  Tilskit  set  the  ponies  at  a 
trot ;  and  thus  the  three  rode  away  through  the  newly 
fallen  snow,  with  the  silvery  frost  crystals  ghstening  in 
the  air  —  rode  away  to  Walla  Walla  and  to  freedom  again. 

From  far  and  near  the  prisoners  were  brought.  Rev. 
Gushing  Eels,  one  of  the  missionaries,  was  conducted 
from  a  distant  village  of  the  Nez  Perces.  Matpah 
sullenly  gave  up  all  the  women  and  children  he  had 
captured. 

It  was  the  morning  of  New  Year's  Day,  in  the  year 


266  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

1848,  before  all  the  prisoners  arrived  at  Walla  Walla. 
The  last  to  come  were  the  Spaldings,  who  were  escorted 
from  Lapwai  by  a  crowd  of  Nez  Perces,  through  the 
region  occupied  by  the  Cayuses. 

As  old  Tilskit  had  feared,  Matpah  repented  of  his 
action  before  a  day  had  gone  by.  Now,  as  Eels  came 
in  with  his  escort  of  Nez  Perces,  Indian  horsemen  were 
seen  among  the  hills  by  the  river.  The  riders  were  in 
war  feathers. 

"The  Cayuses  are  gathering,"  said  Ogden.  ''Cast 
off  the  boats  !  " 

A  fleet  of  boats  was  in  the  river,  ready  for  a  descent 
to  Fort  Vancouver.  They  had  been  held  in  readiness, 
because  Ogden  feared  the  changeable  disposition  of  the 
Cayuses.  Other  Indian  horsemen  were  seen  riding  in 
and  out  among  the  hills,  and  still  others  were  observed 
coming  down  the  river. 

"  Cast  off  the  boats  !  "  Ogden  commanded. 

Then  out  from  the  fort  were  brought  the  women  and 
children  who  had  been  held  as  prisoners,  and  ransomed 
by  the  factor.  They  were  bundled  hastily  into  the 
boats.  The  men  were  in  their  places,  with  uplifted 
oars. 

"  Dip  !  "  said  Ogden.     "  Row  !  " 

He  was  in  the  leading  boat  and  steered  it  for  the 
other  shore. 


THE   CONFERENCE   AND    ITS   RESULT       267 

"  Row  !  "  he  commanded  his  Canadian  boatmen. 

The  Cayuses  galloped  out  of  the  hills,  swinging  their 
rifles  and  their  bows  and  arrows.  Their  yells  lifted  in 
demoniacal  fury.  The  women  and  children  in  the  boats 
became  frightened.     A  few  of  them  stood  up. 

"  Sing,"  said  Ogden  to  the  boatmen,  and  they  raised 
their  voices  in  the  old  boating  song  :  — 

*' Malbrouck  has  gone  a-fighting, 
Miro7itoH^  inirontoii,  miroiitaine ! " 

The  yelling  Cayuses  lashed  their  ponies  with  the 
leather  thongs  which  swung  from  their  wrists.  They 
drove  their  heels  into  the  flanks  of  the  foaming  beasts, 
and  jerked  savagely  on  the  lacerating  horse-hair  bits. 
Arrows  fluttered  out  across  the  water  like  hissing  ser- 
pents, and  a  few  guns  spanged  and  flamed. 

But  this  spasm  of  wrath  w^as  futile.  The  boatmen 
continued  to  sing.  The  boats  passed  down  the  river, 
swept  on  by  the  oars  and  the  swift  current.  Matpah 
and  the  chiefs  who  had  rallied  round  him  had  experi- 
enced a  change  of  heart  too  late.  Cora  Carlton  and 
the  other  prisoners  were  now  safe  beyond  their  reach. 


CHAPTER   XXIV 
THE   CAYUSE   WAR 

RETREATING  in  the  boats  down  the  Columbia, 
the  prisoners  and  their  escort  met  the  main 
body  of  riflemen  at  the  Dalles.  Phil  Curtis,  and  the 
men  who  had  been  with  Tom  McKay,  stopped  here, 
while  Peter  Skeen  Ogden  and  the  boatmen  proceeded 
down  the  river  to  Fort  Vancouver. 

People  everywhere  were  eager  to  open  their  houses 
to  the  rescued  prisoners.  Governor  Abernethy  exerted 
himself  to  make  them  comfortable.  McLoughlin,  who 
had  not  been  with  the  Hudson  Bay  Company  for  two 
years,  took  some  of  them  into  his  house.  Others  were 
quartered  by  Ogden,  and  by  James  Douglas.  All  of 
the  captives  had  suffered  severely,  and  some  of  them 
were  nervous  wrecks. 

Five  hundred  men  had  gathered  at  the  Dalles,  with 
Colonel  Guilham  in  command  of  the  little  army. 
Among  its  chief  supporters  were  stanch  old  Tom 
McKay  and  John  Curtis,  while  not  among  the  least  to 
be  reckoned  were  Phil  Curtis  and  Ben  Allen. 


THE   CAYUSE   WAR  269 

Word  came  down  the  river  that  the  Cayuses  were 
massing  for  a  descent  of  the  stream,  and  that  a  general 
uprising  against  all  the  settlers  of  Oregon  was  contem- 
plated. Scouts  sent  out  reported  that  Indians  had 
been  seen  in  the  hills  and  crouching  in  the  tall  grass 
by  the  river  side.  Mysterious  smoke  signals  were  be- 
held wavering  against  the  sky.  At  night  the  tops  of 
the  hills  flamed  with  Indian  signal  fires. 

''Ay,  lad,  if  they  come,  we  will  give  them  a  hot 
welcome !  "  said  Tom  McKay  to  Phil  Curtis.  ''  They 
will  learn  that  the  riflemen  of  Oregon  can  fight." 

McKay  was  everywhere,  assisting  GuilHam  in  organ- 
izing the  little  army  and  in  preparing  to  give  the 
Indians  a  warm  reception.  The  only  piece  of  artillery 
to  be  had  was  a  rusty  nine-pounder.  This  McKay's 
men  dragged  round  the  cascades  through  a  driving 
snowstorm.  They  planted  it  on  top  of  their  fortifica- 
tion, with  its  black  muzzle  pointed  up  the  river. 

Rumors  of  approaching  Indians  filled  the  air. 
Frightened  settlers  came  in,  reporting  that  they  had 
beheld  feathered  head-dresses  fluttering  in  the  marsh 
grass,  and  that  painted  faces  had  looked  in  at  their 
cabin  doors.  Now  and  then  Cayuses  were  seen  gallop- 
ing through  the  hills.  Then  Indian  boats  came  in 
sight,  swinging  down  the  stream. 

Guilliam    made   an   address   to   his   men,    and   Tom 


2  70  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

McKay  cheered  them  on.  The  rifles  of  the  moun- 
taineers and  the  voyageurs  had  been  cleaned  until  the 
spiral  grooves  glittered.  Bullets  had  been  run  and 
patching  prepared.  The  old  nine-pounder  was  loaded 
and  in  readiness,  with  a  special  detail  of  men  to 
work  it. 

The  Cayuses  threw  off  all  disguise  and  came  out 
boldly  on  the  hills  and  along  the  river.  They  had 
painted  their  horses  as  well  as  themselves.  Feathers 
floated  from  pony  manes  and  Indian  head-dresses. 
Matpah  was  there  and  Five  Crows.  All  the  disap- 
pointed chiefs  of  the  Cayuses  and  the  Nez  Percys 
were  in  that  assembly  of  warlike  red  men.  The 
Indian  squaws  were  camped  on  all  the  hills  looking 
down  on  the  little  fort  at  the  Dalles,  fully  expecting 
to  witness  the  overwhelming  defeat  of  the  hated 
Bostons.  Indian  yells  rose  like  the  yelps  of  coyotes 
or  the  howling  of  wolves. 

''Bah!"  shrieked  one  of  the  medicine  men,  pranc- 
ing out  defiantly  on  his  painted  pony  and  waving  his 
medicine  bag.  "  I  defy  the  Bostons !  I  am  a  great 
medicine !  The  rifles  of  the  Boston  men  cannot  harm 
me!" 

Many  Indians  pressed  forward  behind  him,  while 
along  the  river  wild  yells  arose. 

A  tall  rifleman  within  the  fort  swung  up  his  glitter- 


I    DEFY  THE    BOSTONS 


THE    CAYUSE   WAR  271 

ing  rifle.     It  leaped  to  his  cheek,   and  his  keen  eye 
glanced  along  the  barrel. 

''You're  a  great  medicine !"  he  howled  to  the  medi- 
cine man.  "  The  rifles  of  the  white  men  cannot  hurt 
you  !     Then,  take  that !  " 

His  rifle  cracked,  and  other  rifles  spanged  in  unison 
with  it.  The  medicine  man  dropped  like  a  lump  of 
lead  from  the  back  of  his  painted  pony.  Five  Crows, 
who  had  been  pressing  forward  close  behind  him,  fell 
with  a  broken  arm.  Other  Indians  tottered  and  toppled. 
The  yells  of  the  women  on  the  hills  changed  to  screams. 

The  Indians  who  had  crowded  behind  the  medicine 
man  drew  back  on  the  bridles  of  their  horses,  and 
wheeling  about  raced  away  at  full  speed.  The  fall 
of  the  defiant  conjurer  had  stripped  them  suddenly  of 
their  courage.  The  long-shooting  rifles  of  the  white 
men  could  kill.  They  had  killed  the  medicine  man,  and 
had  broken  the  arm  of  Five  Crows,  and  had  bitten 
deeply  into  the  flesh  of  others.  The  rifles  of  the 
white  men  could  slay  and  would  slay,  even  though 
the  medicine  men  had  claimed  the  contrary. 

Within  less  than  five  minutes  a  strange  transforma- 
tion had  been  effected.  The  fluttering  feathers,  the 
fierce  faces,  the  painted  horses,  were  gone.  The 
river  rippled  on  toward  the  sea ;  the  sun  shone  on 
the  hills;    the   sky  looked   down   peacefully.     Not   an 


2  72  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

Indian  was  to  be  seen.  All  had  vanished,  and  every- 
thing was  silent  except  within  the  fort  where  the 
victorious  riflemen   lay. 

"  Bah  !  "  said  Tom  McKay,  "  they  fight  and  run  hke 
cowards.  You  can  never  get  an  Indian  to  stand  up 
and  take  a  dose  of  bullets.  That  medicine  man  was 
a  fool ! " 

''  Just  like  other  medicine  men,"  said  Phil  Curtis. 
*'  Some  of  them  really  think  they  bear  charmed  lives 
and  that  nothing  can  hurt  them." 

When  it  was  seen  that  the  Indians  had  really  re- 
treated, the  riflemen  under  Colonel  GuiUiam  clamored 
to  be  led  in  pursuit. 

''The  rascals  need  to  be  taught  a  lesson,"  they  said, 
"  and  they  should  be  punished  for  the  killing  of  Whit- 
man and  others.  Unless  they  are  crushed  now,  we 
shall  never  have  peace  in  this   country." 

Phil  Curtis  had  no  desire  for  an  Indian  war,  yet  he 
knew  that  these  old  mountain  men  and  voyageurs 
were  right.  The  only  force  those  Indians  could  under- 
stand was  the  force  of  the  strong  arm.  The  young 
Cayuse  braves,  who  were  the  leaders  in  this  uprising, 
had  come  to  look  with  scorn  upon  the  white  men. 
Marcus  Whitman  had  fallen  without  a  blow  Hfted  in 
self-defence.  Peter  Skeen  Ogden  had  retreated  down 
the  river,  as  if  he  feared  the  Indians.     Everything  had 


THE    CAYUSE   WAR  273 

conspired  to  make  these  wild  natives  of  Oregon  believe 
that  the  white  men  were  a  race  of  cowards. 

Guilliam  gave  the  order  to  advance  up  the  river, 
and  then  it  was  seen  that  the  Indians  had  not  really 
retreated.  Every  rock  seemed  to  hide  a  bowman. 
Rifle  shots  rang  out  from  beyond  the  ridges.  In  the 
tall  grass  some  painted  brave  twanged  his  bowstring, 
then  rose  and  fled  in  wild  haste.  A  few  of  the  white 
men  fell,  but  the  others  pressed  right  on,  driving  the 
Indians  before  them. 

All  along  the  old  immigrant  trail  this  slow  retreat 
continued.  Throughout  the  day  the  red  men  fired  and 
fled.  At  night  their  signal  beacons  flashed  on  the 
hills. 

"  We're  in  for  an  Indian  war,"  was  the  opinion 
Phil  Curtis  expressed  to  Ben  Allen. 

"  And  war  with  Indians,  at  this  time  of  year,  isn't 
going  to  be  any  fun,"  said  Ben.  "  I'm  half  frozen  now, 
and  worn  out  with  hard  work." 

The  little  army  was  quite  exhausted  when  it  reached 
the  village  of  Pio-pio-mox-mox,  which  was  now  located 
on  the  road  to  Waiilatpu.  The  old  chief  had  taken  no 
part  in  the  Indian  uprising.  Though  he  had  lost  his 
son  at  the  hands  of  a  white  man,  he  was  still  the  white 
man's  friend.  He  was  sensible  enough  to  see  that  the 
act  of  one  man  should  not  be  charged  against  the  race. 


2  74  A   COURIER   OF    EMPIRE 

He  came  out  to  greet  Guilliam's  little  army,  and  spoke 
kindly  to  Phil  Curtis  and  Tom  McKay. 

"I  have  had  no  hand  in  this,"  he  declared,  speaking 
of  the  action  of  the  Indians.  ''  I  have  told  the  Cayuses 
that  the  white  man  strikes  hard  and  strikes  far.  I  saw 
him  when  he  was  fighting  in  California.  I  want  to  be 
the  friend  of  the  white  man  and  have  the  white  man  to 
be  my  friend." 

Pio-pio-mox-mox  had  been  for  a  little  while  with 
Fremont's  small  army  in  California,  and  had  there 
rendered  gallant  service  in  the  war  against  the  Mexi- 
cans. He  had  truly  seen  the  white  men  fight,  and  he 
had  fought  by  their  side. 

"We  are  tired;  we  are  hungry,"  said  McKay. 
"You  have  many  beef  cattle  here.  We  do  not  want 
them  unless  we  can  buy  them." 

The  old  chief  spread  his  hands  out  toward  his  herds. 

"  There  they  are,"  he  said.     "  Take  them  !  " 

Guilliam's  men  rested  at  the  village  of  Pio-pio-mox- 
mox.  Then  they  went  on  with  a  new  supply  of  food, 
proceeding  to  Waiilatpu.  All  that  remained  of  the 
mission  was  a  heap  of  charred  ruins.  It  was  a  sad  sight 
to  Phil  Curtis.  He  had  spent  many  happy  months,  even 
years,  there.  Whitman  and  his  wife  had  been  in  good 
health  and  high  spirits  when  last  he  had  seen  them, 
and  now  he  was  never  to  look  into  their  faces  again. 


THE   CAYUSE   WAR  275 

He  wanted  to  get  away  from  Waiilatpu,  and  he  was 
glad  when  the  order  came  to  march.  Tom  McKay  and 
Guilliam  were  anxious  to  pursue  the  Indians  into  the 

hills. 

''  Matpah  and  Five  Crows,  and  the  Indians  under 
them,  have  gone  to  the  Snake  River,"  was  the  informa- 
tion given  by  Pio-pio-mox-mox. 

It  was  a  long  and  wearisome  distance,  yet  the  pursuit 
was  begun.  The  greatest  care  was  taken  to  prevent 
word  of  the  advance  being  sent  on  to  the  Indians.  By 
forced  marches  the  Snake  was  reached  in  an  incredibly 
short  time.  There  the  Indians  were  discovered  just 
about  to  cross  the  river  with  a  large  number  of  cattle. 

The  riflemen  put  themselves  in  fighting  trim.  The 
fugitives  were  sighted  before  they  could  charge,  and 
some  old  chiefs  came  out,  with  hands  uplifted  in  token 

of  peace. 

Tom  McKay  went  forward  to  meet  them. 

"We  are  friends  of  Pio-pio-mox-mox,"  said  one  of  the 
chiefs,  a  venerable  man,  while  his  Ups  trembled.  This 
array  of  fighting  men  frightened  him. 

Tom  McKay  looked  him  straight  in  the  eyes. 

"We  have  come  for  the  murderers,"  he  said.  "We 
want  the  men  who  killed  Marcus  Whitman." 

uQone  — all  gone!"  cried  the  old  man,  spreading 
out  his  hands. 


276  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

So  said  the  other  chiefs. 

*'  Where  have  they  gone  ?  "  McKay  demanded. 

**  Across  the  river,  farther  into  the  mountains." 

McKay  looked  out  over  the  hills,  and  saw  that  they 
were  covered  with  cattle.  The  little  army  was  suffer- 
ing for  want  of  provisions. 

'*  Whose  cattle  are  these  ?  "  he  asked. 

**  Many  are  ours,"  said  the  chief;  ''but  some  are 
Tiloukaikt's." 

Black-faced  Tiloukaikt  had  joined  the  hostiles. 

"We  will  take  the  cattle,"  said  McKay. 

The  chiefs  begged  for  time  in  which  to  remove 
their  own  from  the  midst  of  the  herd.  Tom  McKay 
hesitated. 

"I  will  agree  to  that,"  he  said  at  last,  "because  you 
say  you  are  the  Yellow  Serpent's  people.  Get  out  your 
cattle." 

The  riflemen  were  not  pleased  with  this  arrange- 
ment, when  it  was  communicated  to  them  by  McKay, 
for  they  distrusted  the  claims  of  the  chiefs.  McKay 
had  granted  the  request  because  he  was  anxious  not 
to  injure  or  do  wrong  to  any  friend  of  Pio-pio-mox- 
mox. 

The  distrust  of  the  riflemen  was  justified  by  events. 
Night  fell  while  the  work  of  separating  the  cattle  was 
going  on.     When  dawn  came  the  white  men  saw  they 


THE   CAYUSE   WAR  277 

were  being  tricked,  for  the  Indians  were  working  like 
beavers  to  put  the  entire  herd  across  the  river. 

A  roar  of  rage  broke  from  the  riflemen.  Orders 
were  given  by  Colonel  Guilliam  to  collect  all  the  cattle, 
and  the  men  set  out  to  obey.  As  they  were  thus 
engaged,  galloping  here  and  there,  snapping  whips 
and  shouting  at  the  herd,  a  wild  war-whoop  sounded, 
like  a  thunderbolt  shot  from  a  sunny  sky. 

The  Indians  who  were  said  to  have  fled  across  the 
Snake  into  the  farther  mountains  were  in  the  lodges, 
in  full  war  regalia,  with  bows  and  rifles  in  their  hands. 
The  claims  of  the  chiefs  had  been  but  a  trick  to  deceive 

the  white  men. 

As  that  yell  rolled  across  the  river,  the  entire  village 
was  seen  to  be  swarming  with  warriors,  who  leaped 
from  the  lodges,  shouting  their  war-cries.  Rifles 
crackled,  while  arrows  hissed  in  the  air  as  if  they  were 

serpents. 

The  surprised  riflemen  fell  on  every  hand,  shot 
down  by  bullet  and  arrow.  Some  of  them  had  ridden 
into  the  river  to  get  out  the  swimming  cattle,  and 
several  of  these  were  shot  as  they  tried  to  reach  the 
shore.  Tom  McKay  rode  up  and  down  the  stream, 
wild  with  rage,  yelling  to  rally  and  encourage  the 
men.  Phil  Curtis  and  Ben  Allen  put  themselves  at  his 
side,  as  the  men  bunched  together. 


2  78  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

*'We  shall  have  to  charge  them,"  said  McKay,  as  he 
looked  round  at  those  who  were  gathering  about  them. 

The  Indian  yells  were  lifted  in  wild  clamor.  Rifles 
still  crackled  and  arrows  hissed.  It  was  the  first 
time  that  Phil  Curtis  and  Ben  Allen  had  been  under 
fire.  Something  seemed  to  rise  in  Phil's  throat,  but 
it  was  not  caused  by  fear.  From  head  to  foot  he 
thrilled  with  excitement. 

**  We  are  with  you !  "  he  shouted  to  Tom  McKay. 

**Ay,  we  are  with  you!"  yelled  some  of  the  rifle- 
men. 

McKay's  rifle  went  to  his  cheek. 

"  Fire  !  "  he  said.     *'  Then  charge  !  " 

Rifles  flashed.  Whips  and  spurs  w^ere  applied  to 
the  snorting  horses,  and  the  rushing  charge  was  on. 
It  broke  the  solid  mass  of  Indians  that  had  gathered 
in  front  of  the  lodges. 

As  Phil  Curtis  dashed  forward  yelling,  with  Ben 
Allen  by  his  side,  he  came  quite  unexpectedly  face 
to  face  with  Matpah.  If  he  had  not  known  the 
young  chief  so  well,  he  could  hardly  have  recognized 
him ;  for  Matpah,  fighting  with  the  upper  part  of 
his  body  naked  and  his  long  hair  floating,  was  so 
covered  with  paint  and  decked  with  feathers  that  he 
seemed  altogether  another  man. 

A  wild  cry  leaped  from  the  lips  of  the  Indian  when 


THE   CAYUSE   WAR  279 

he  saw  before  him  the  youth  he  hated.  He  had 
never  forgotten  nor  forgiven  Phil  for  throwing  him 
into  the  river  that  day  at  Waiilatpu.  To  his  distorted 
fancy,  Phil  had  come  between  him  and  Cora  Carlton, 
and  he  believed  that  it  was  through  Phil's  influence 
that  Tilskit  had  been  sent  to  release  Cora  from  her 
imprisonment.  He  had  longed  for  the  opportunity 
which  seemed  now  to  have  come  to  him,  and  his  heart 
flamed  with  wrath  and  vengeance. 

"  Ho,  dog  of  a  Boston  !  "  he  yelled. 

Then  he  drove  his  painted  pony  straight  at  Phil. 
As  he  did  so,  he  tossed  up  his  rifle,  —  a  beautiful 
one  which  he  had  taken  from  some  white  man,  —  and 
fired  at  the  breast  of  his  foe.  The  swaying  motion 
of  his  pony  spoiled  his  aim,  and  the  bullet  flew  over 
Phil's  shoulder.  The  next  instant  Phil's  horse  and 
that  of  the  young  chief  collided,  almost  pitching  the 
riders  from  their  saddles.  Phil  struck  at  Matpah 
with  the  rifle  barrel ;  and  the  Indian,  dodging  the  blow, 
drew  his  hatchet  from  his  belt. 

"Dog  of  a  Boston,"  he  yelled  again;  "now  I  kill 
you!" 

His  hatchet  whirled  through  the  air,  ghttering  in  its 
circular  flight  like  a  wheel  of  diamonds. 

Phil  dodged  it,  and  struck  again  with  his  rifle  barrel. 
Matpah  caught  it,   and  tried  to   jerk    Phil   out  of   his 


28o  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

saddle.  Thus  they  came  together,  the  horses  jamming 
into  each  other  once  more.  Matpah  tried  to  get  out 
a  knife,  but  Phil  clutched  his  arm  and  held  it.  Then, 
in  the  rage  and  fury  of  battle,  he  struck  the  young 
chief  in  the  face. 

Horses  were  trampling,  blows  being  delivered,  and 
yells  were  rising.  The  seething  battle  was  sweeping 
past  them  in  all  its  mad  fury.  Phil  heard  the  wild 
war-cries  of  the  mountain  men,  —  as  wild  as  the  yells 
of  the  Indians  themselves,  —  and  he  heard  steel  click- 
ing against  steel. 

Then  Matpah,  disengaging  his  hand,  struck  at  Phil 
with  his  hunting-knife.  In  return  Phil  jerked  the 
young  chief  from  his  saddle.  Horses  raced  by  with 
pounding  hoofs,  and  Phil  being  caught  in  their  midst 
was  borne  away ;  but  looking  back,  he  saw  Matpah 
leap  to  his  feet,  shake  his  fist  angrily,  and  catch  up 
his  rifle.  Then  other  yelling  figures  intervened  to 
blot  out  the  view. 

The  Indians  scattered  like  chaff,  but  the  respite  was 
for  a  short  time  only.  They  continued  to  fire  from 
behind  the  lodges,  from  behind  rocks  and  trees,  and 
from  every  point  of  vantage. 

With  the  riflemen  falling  and  the  cattle  lost  to 
them,  a  retreat  was  ordered.  The  white  men  had 
been  deceived,  trapped,  and  overwhelmed.     When  they 


THE   CAYUSE   WAR  281 

tried   to   retreat,  the   Indians  pursued;    and  the    Httle 
army  was  forced  to  take  shelter  under  whatever  cover 

it  could  find. 

For  thirty  hours  the  fight  lasted  —  for  thirty  hours 
the  Indians  were  held  at  bay.  Through  the  long 
day,  and  the  longer  night,  the  combat  continued  till 
it  seemed  the  white  men  would  be  annihilated.  Then 
they  succeeded  in  effecting  a  retreat. 

The  story  of  that  retreat  and  disaster  spread  quickly 
to  all  the  Indian  villages,  and  travelled  likewise  to 
the  homes  and  towns  of  the  white  settlers.     It  stirred 

Oregon ;  and  Governor  Abernethy  issued  another  call 

for  volunteers. 


CHAPTER   XXV 
TRAPPED 

THE  defeat  of  the  small  force  under  Colonel  Guil- 
liam  filled  the  hostile  Indians  of  Oregon  with  sav- 
age arrogance.  Like  the  boastful  medicine  man  who 
had  fallen  before  the  rifle  at  the  Dalles,  they  began 
to  believe  themselves  invincible.  Medicine  men  de- 
nounced the  settlers  with  increased  virulence.  From 
village  to  village  old  Waskema  passed  hke  an  evil 
spirit.  Her  sinister  prophecies  seemed  to  be  whis- 
pered on  every  wind,  and  wherever  she  went  she 
stirred  up   hatred  against  the  whites. 

"  Now  is  the  time  to  drive  out  the  white  men,  while 
they  are  frightened,"  she  urged.  ''  You,  Cayuses  and 
Nez  Perces,  must  not  stay  your  hands  now.  Strike, 
and  strike  quickly ;  strike,  and  strike  strong  ! " 

She  was  in  every  council  lodge,  and  the  medicine 
men  hearkened  to  her,  for  they  looked  upon  her  as  a 
being  inspired.  She  based  her  sermons  of  hate  on  the 
continued  sickness  in  the  Indian  villasfes. 

"They  die,"  she  said,  speaking  of  the  sick,  "because 

282 


TRAPPED  283 

of  the  evil  spirits  loosed  among  us  by  the  white  men. 
Drive  out  the  white  men,  if  you  would  save  the  lives  of 
your  sick." 

Everywhere  Indian  drums  boomed  in  council  lodges. 
By  every  trail  over  which  white  men  passed,  painted 
faces  were  seen.  War  rumors  came  down  from  the 
hills  on  the  wings  of  every  wind.  It  was  reported  that 
the  Klamaths  had  come  up  from  the  southern  moun- 
tains and  were  encamped  on  a  branch  of  the  Willamette. 
They  were  ready,  it  was  said,  to  begin  a  war  of  exter- 
mination against  the  whites.  The  Klickitats  had  come 
out  of  their  hill  fastnesses  to  join  the  Cayuses.  The 
Warm  Spring  Indians  had  announced  that  they  would 
rise.  The  Nez  Perces  were  ready  to  join  with  any 
band  that  was  prepared  to  move  against  the  whites. 

Fear  crouched  by  the  fireside  of  every  settler. 
Women  hesitated  to  go  beyond  the  doors  of  their 
houses.  When  evening  shadows  fell,  children  looked 
in  fright  into  the  gathering  gloom.  As  men  passed  to 
and  fro  from  settlement  to  settlement,  they  went  fully 
armed. 

Governor  Abernethy  issued  a  third  call  for  volunteers. 
In  the  month  of  March  the  forces  which  had  been 
gathering  were  ready  to  move,  but  the  warUke  Kla- 
maths struck  the  first  blow  by  attacking  some  cabins 
and  shooting  down  cattle. 


284  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

Again  Tom  McKay  rode  in  advance  of  the  settlers' 
forces.  Under  him  was  a  small  body  of  riflemen  doing 
duty  as  scouts.  One  of  these  was  Phil  Curtis,  another 
was  John  Curtis,  his  father,  and  a  third  was  Ben  Allen, 
the  boy  from  Indiana.  They  carried  only  their  rifles 
and  blankets  and  a  small,  supply  of  food. 

As  the  little  Oregon  army  moved  out  in  the  gusty 
spring  weather,  McKay's  scouts  went  ahead,  seeking 
information.  The  white  men  had  learned  a  lesson. 
They  did  not  intend  to  be  trapped  again,  if  they  could 
prevent  it.  So  every  hillside  that  could  shelter  a  foe, 
every  rock  that  might  screen  a  painted  warrior,  was 
inspected. 

This  entailed  hard  riding  and  a  great  deal  of  dis- 
agreeable and  dangerous  work.  Phil  Curtis  and  Ben 
Allen  kept  together  as  much  as  they  could.  Some- 
times Phil  rode  out  alone  with  his  father. 

Few  Indians  had  been  seen  as  the  little  army 
advanced  into  the  hills,  and  these  few  professed  friend- 
ship for  the  whites.  Pio-pio-mox-mox  was  in  his  vil- 
lage. Tilskit  was  also  in  his  village,  it  was  reported, 
though  it  was  farther  back  in  the  hills  and  much 
nearer  to  the  hostiles.  For  a  long  time  now  Phil  had 
not  seen  his  Indian  brother,  Timuitti,  since  Tilskit  and 
Timuitti  would  not  take  part  with  the  white  men, 
though  they  refused  to  aid  the  other  Cayuses. 


TRAPPED  285 

One  day  as  Phil  rode  along  with  his  father,  while 
they  watched  carefully  for  indications  of  the  presence 
of  enemies,  they  beheld  the  smoke  of  a  camp-fire. 

**  Indians  !  "  said  John  Curtis,  and  he  drew  in  on  his 
bridle  rein. 

Side  by  side,  on  their  ponies,  Phil  and  his  father  sat, 
watching  that  drifting  smoke. 

"  Whether  they  are  friends  or  foes  can  only  be  told 
by  investigating.  If  you  will  stay  here  with  the  ponies, 
I  will  try  to  find  out." 

Curtis  slipped  from  the  back  of  his  horse,  and,  giv- 
ing the  bridle  to  his  son,  moved  off  softly  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  camp-fire.  He  was  dressed  in  the  garb  of  a 
mountain  man,  and  his  moccasined  feet  made  no  sound. 
Phil  watched  him  as  he  crept  away  with  catlike  steps 
and  disappeared  in  the  depths  of  the  scantily  timbered 
ravine  from  which  the  smoke  ascended. 

It  was  wearisome  waiting  after  that.  There  was 
scarcely  a  sound  or  a  sign  of  life.  Though  spring 
had  come,  few  birds  invaded  this  solitude.  High  in 
the  tops  of  the  slender  trees  the  wind  whispered,  as  if 
it  would  tell  to  the  youth  beneath  the  everlasting  se- 
crets of  the  hills.  Now  and  again  one  of  the  ponies 
stamped  restlessly,  making  a  sound  that  seemed  to 
Phil's  straining  ears  loud  and  startling,  but  which 
could   have   been   heard   only  a  short  distance   away. 


286  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

As  the  slow  minutes  crept  on  Phil  Curtis  began  to 
be  uneasy,  yet  he  held  his  impatience  in  check.  He 
patted  the  smooth,  arching  necks  of  the  ponies,  and 
talked  to  them  in  soothing  tones  to  keep  them  quiet. 
All  the  while  his  eyes  were  fixed  in  the  direction  in 
which  his  father  had  gone. 

"  Something  is  wrong,"  he  concluded  at  last. 
*'  Father  has  had  time  to  go  to  that  camp-fire  and 
back  half  a  dozen  times." 

Still  Phil  Curtis  held  in  his  impatience  and  tried  to 
curb  his  uneasiness.  He  knew  how  exceedingly  cautious 
his  father  would  be  in  a  matter  of  this  kind,  and  he 
knew,  too,  he  was  not  a  man  who  could  be  trapped 
easily.  When  nearly  an  hour  had  elapsed  and  still 
John  Curtis  did  not  return,  Phil's  anxiety  became  so 
great  that  he  could  remain  no  longer  there  beneath 
the  trees. 

**  I  must  find  out  what  has  happened.  He  may  have 
fallen  and  hurt  himself.  There  may  be  no  Indians 
there  at  all,  and  I  may  be  simply  wasting  time  here 
while  I  might  be  helping  him." 

Pushed  on  by  a  wild  desire  to  know  what  had  oc- 
curred, Phil  hastily  tied  the  horses  to  some  swinging 
boughs  of  a  tree  that  grew  near  ;  then,  with  his  gun 
held  in  readiness,  he  advanced  in  the  direction  taken 
by   his  father.      Every   yard    of    the  way  he    scanned 


TRAPPED  287 

closely.  He  was  aware  that  if  a  trap  had  been  set  for 
John  Curtis,  it  would  probably  be  awaiting  him,  and 
if  he  were  not  careful,  he  would  fall  into  it. 

He  became  even  more  cautious  as  he  approached 
the  smoke.  When  he  was  within  a  hundred  yards  of 
it,  he  could  see  down  into  the  ravine.  The  small  fire 
which  had  been  burning  there  seemed  to  be  half  ex- 
tinguished, though  smoke  still  mounted  into  the  air. 
No  one  was  to  be  seen.  The  whole  thing  was  very 
alarming  and  strange.  From  behind  the  screen  of  a 
low  bush  Phil  stared  at  the  fire  and  tried  to  outline 
his  course  of  action. 

''Father!"  he  called  softly. 

There  was  no  answer. 

"  Father ! "    he    called     again.      ''  Father,    are    you 

there  .?  " 

The  only  sound  was  the  wind  whispering  in  the  tops 

of  the  trees. 

Phil's  strained  nerves  cried  out  in  anguish,  yet  he 
stood  still,  fearing  to  advance  and  unwilling  to  retreat. 
Finally  he  went  on  again  slowly.  He  held  his  rifle 
ready,  with  his  finger  on  the  trigger. 

''That  fire  was  made  by  Indians,"  was  his  thought, 
"  and  they  were  here  not  so  very  long  ago.  I  should 
be  sure  they  had  gone  on,  only  I  can't  understand  what 
has  happened  to  father." 


288  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

He  advanced  toward  the  fire. 

A  burning  twig  snapping  in  two,  fell  over  with  an 
explosive  crackle,  and  the  two  ends  resembled  two  red 
eyes  staring  at  him.  He  stood  still,  gazing  at  these 
two  bright  spots,  then  looked  all  round.  Again  he 
advanced. 

"  Father  !  "  he  called. 

There  was  still  the  same  mysterious  silence. 

"Father!"  he  cried  once  more,  raising  his  voice  to 
a  louder  pitch. 

He  could  now  see  beyond  the  fire,  where  there  was 
some  snow  which  the  spring  sun  had  not  melted.  There 
he  beheld  the  imprints  of  moccasined  feet.  The  tracks 
showed  the  toes  pointed  in  the  opposite  direction,  in- 
dicating that  the  Indians  had  gone  on  down  the  ravine. 

"  If .  they  have  captured  father,  they  must  have 
headed  that  way,  taking  him  with  them  as  a  prisoner." 

The  thought  served  to  destroy  in  a  measure  the  ex- 
treme caution  which  Phil  had  so  far  exercised.  He 
rose  to  an  upright  position  and  walked  toward  the 
fire. 

As  he  did  so  some  heaped-up  leaves,  which  at  a 
casual  glance  appeared  to  be  mere  drift,  bulged  up- 
ward, and  two  Indians,  who  had  been  lying  there 
concealed,  sprang  upon  him. 

Phil   Curtis  saw  at  a  glance  that  one  of  them  was 


TRAPPED  289 

Matpah,  and  threw  forward  his  rifle ;  but  a  blow  from 
a  club  knocked  the  muzzle  downward,  and  the  con- 
tents were  discharged  into  the  earth.  Before  he  could 
gather  himself  for  a  struggle,  Matpah  and  the  other 
Indian  were  upon  him,  bearing  him  to  the  ground. 

Although  surprised  in  this  treacherous  manner,  Phil 
Curtis  made  a  gallant  fight.  Time  and  again  he  threw 
off  his  assailants,  and  so  strong  and  active  was  he 
that  he  might  have  escaped  from  his  foes  if  other 
Indians  had  not  hurried  to  their  assistance,  springing 
into  view  from  the  surrounding  rocks  and  gullies. 

Beaten,  bruised,  and  panting,  Phil  Curtis  was  hurled 
to  the  ground.  His  gun  had  been  torn  from  his  hand, 
and  his  hunting-knife  was  now  snatched  from  its 
sheath.  Unarmed  and  helpless,  he  looked  defiantly 
at  Matpah. 

"  Dog  of  a  Boston !  "  that  youth  exclaimed  fiercely, 
as  he  gave  Phil  a  brutal  kick  in  the  side.  "  It  is 
Matpah's  turn  now  !  " 

Phil  did  not  answer,  for  he  knew  that  any  words 
he  might  speak  would  only  bring  new  indignity. 

He  saw  two  Indians  hurry  away  from  the  camp-fire, 
up  the  ravine,  and  he  knew  that  they  were  going  for 
the  ponies.  Some  others  then  dragged  up  a  bound 
and  unresisting  form  —  the  form  of  John  Curtis.  He 
had  not  only  been  tied,  but  had  been  gagged  to  keep 


290  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

him  from  giving  warning  to  his  son.  He  looked  at 
Phil  regretfully. 

"  Why  do  you  not  speak  ? "  demanded  Matpah, 
again  kicking  Phil  in  the  side. 

"Why  should  I  speak.?"  said  Phil.  "You  have 
trapped  me.     Is  not  that  enough  ? " 

"  It  is  not  enough  —  it  is  not  all.  Where  are  the 
ponies  you  stole  from  Stikine's  village .'' " 

The  gag  had  been  taken  from  the  mouth  of  John 
Curtis.  Phil  looked  at  his  father,  as  if  to  question 
concerning  the  answer  he  should  make. 

"  Those  ponies  were  not  stolen,"  said  Curtis. 
"  Stikine's  Cayuses  took  two  ponies  from  Phil  and 
the  boy  who  was  with  him.  When  they  could  not 
get  their  own  ponies,  they  took  others.  That  is  not 
stealing." 

"  My  words  were  not  for  you,"  said  Matpah.  "  Pah  ! 
I  care  not  for  you.  My  quarrel  is  with  this  one, 
who  calls  himself  the  white  Cayuse,  and  says  he  is 
the  son  of  Tilskit.  He  threw  me  into  the  river  one 
day  at  Waiilatpu.  He  sent  Tilskit  for  the  girl  who 
was  in  my  village.  He  struck  me  in  the  face  in  the 
fight  at  Snake  River.  Does  he  think  that  Matpah  is 
a  dog  to  stand  all  these  things.-^     He  shall  see!" 

Phil  looked  at  him  calmly  and  even  defiantly,  but 
made  no  answer.     Words  were  but  poor  weapons  now. 


TRAPPED  291 

"Stand  up!"  Matpah  commanded,  speaking  to  both 
John  and  Phil  Curtis,  when  the  two  Indians  who  had 
gone  for  the  ponies  had  returned  with  them. 

*'  Where  do  we  go  ?  "  Phil  ventured  to  ask. 

"To  a  place  from  which  you  shall  not  return." 

"Matpah  is  a  fool,"  said  John  Curtis,  speaking  to 
the  young  chief.  "  Does  he  suppose  that  he  can  do 
this  thing  and  not  suffer  for  it.?  My  son  is  the 
adopted  son  of  the  Cayuse  chief,  Tiiskit.  Besides 
that,  the  white  riflemen  are  marching  into  these  hills, 
and  if  we  suffer,  they  will  avenge  us." 

"  Pah ! "  said  Matpah,  with  a  shrug  of  defiance. 
"  The  white  men  will  all  be  swept  from  the  valley  of 
the  Columbia.  They  will  be  scattered  like  the  ashes 
of  a  camp-fire.  The  anger  of  the  Indians  of  Oregon 
burns  hot  against   the  white  men.     Matpah    does   not 

fear." 

"The  only  one  who  is  not  afraid  is  a  fool,"  said 
Curtis,  boldly,  quoting  one  of  the  proverbs  of  the 
mountains,  with  which  all  Indians  were  famiUar. 

Matpah  made  a  motion  toward  his  knife,  as  if  with 
murderous  intent;  but  he  evidently  thought  better  of 
it,  for  drawing  his  hand  away,  he  spoke  to  the  excited 
Indians  who  were  clustering  round  him. 

In  answer  to  his  command,  they  lifted  John  and 
Phil  Curtis  to  the  backs  of  ponies,  and  tied  them  there. 


292  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

Many  other  ponies  were  now  brought  up  —  a  suffi- 
cient number  to  mount  Matpah's  party. 

The  character  of  the  trap  into  which  John  and  Phil 
Curtis  had  fallen  was  plain.  Some  of  Matpah's  men 
had  discovered  them  in  the  hills,  noted  their  direction 
and  the  speed  at  which  they  were  moving,  and  then 
a  camp-fire  had  been  built  to  attract  their  attention, 
and  an  ambuscade  prepared. 

John  Curtis  could  not  condemn  himself  too  severely 
for  falling  into  such  an  ambush.  He  was  so  ex- 
perienced a  mountaineer  that  he  felt  he  ought  to 
have  discovered  and  avoided  it.  The  worst  of  it  was, 
as  it  seemed  to  him,  he  had  led  his  son  into  this 
terrible  danger.  What  the  outcome  would  be  he 
could  only  guess;  but  the  manner  of  Matpah  and 
those  with  him  did  not  augur  well. 

With  the  prisoners  in  their  midst  the  Indians  set 
out,  travelling  through  the  hills  in  a  northerly  direc- 
tion. They  followed  a  trail  that  led  along  the  ravine 
and  then  across  some  sugar-loaf  eminences  which 
were  treeless  and  almost  barren  of  vegetation.  Two 
hours  later  they  came  in  sight  of  a  village  lying 
along  the  banks  of  a  small  stream  that  came  down 
from  the  mountains,  and  so  well  screened  that  it 
could  not  be  seen  until  a  near  approach. 

A  wild  whoop  from  Matpah  announced  his  coming. 


TRAPPED  293 

There  were  answering  whoops  and  a  great  clamor, 
with  which  was  mingled  much  barking  of  dogs. 
Then  Indians  came  out  of  the  lodges  and  began  to 
swarm  from  the  village  in  the  direction  of  the  ap- 
proaching party. 

Among  those  with  Matpah  when  he  made  the  cap- 
ture, Phil  had  recognized  several  who  had  been  for  a 
longer  or  shorter  term  pupils  in  the  Waiilatpu  mission 
school.  One  or  two  of  them  he  had  known  well ;  yet 
how  changed  they  were !  There  they  had  seemed 
tractable  and  almost  civilized.  Here  in  the  solitude 
of  the  hills  they  were  streaked  with  paint  and  flutter- 
ing with  feathers.  Every  vestige  of  civiHzation  had 
been  cast  off. 

Now,  as  the  swarming  Indians  from  the  village 
approached,  Phil  saw  likewise  in  their  midst  faces  that 
were  familiar  —  faces  of  men  and  women  who  had  at 
various  times  attended  meetings  held  by  Marcus  Whit- 
man. Some  of  them  had  even  lifted  their  voices  in 
Christian  song  and  taken  part  in  Christian  service. 
Apparently  this  was  all  forgotten  as  they  looked  on 
the  helpless  prisoners,  and  voices  once  raised  in  song 
and  praise  were  lifted  now  in  wild  yells  of  savage 
joy. 

*'  The  outlook  is  not  pleasant,"  said  Curtis,  speaking 
to  his  son  in  a  low  tone.     "  But  I  still  have  hope  that 


294  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

these  Cayuses  will  not  be  foolish  enough  to  do  anything 
serious." 

The  hope  was  stronger  on  his  lips  than  it  was  in  his 
heart. 

When  the  prisoners  were  brought  in  and  the  Indians 
had  somewhat  satisfied  their  curiosity,  there  was  a 
movement  toward  the  council  lodge  —  a  lodge  of  enor- 
mous proportions,  located  in  the  centre  of  the  village, 
by  the  margin  of  the  stream. 

Though  Phil  and  John  Curtis  were  closely  guarded, 
Matpah  had  disappeared.  Yet  one  more  terrible  than 
Matpah  was  there.  This  was  Waskema,  the  fierce  old 
dreamer  and  necromancer.  Her  hate  found  vent  now 
in  bitter  vituperation. 

Standing  in  the  crowd  of  staring  women  and  children, 
she  pounded  the  earth  with  her  crooked  staff  and  shook 
her  skinny  fingers  at  the  helpless  captives. 

"  I  know  you,"  she  said,  directing  her  words  to  John 
Curtis.  "  You  have  slept  in  our  lodges  and  eaten  of 
our  food  ;  yet  now  you  lift  your  rifle  against  the  Ca- 
yuses. You  are  of  that  foul  brood  that  came  over  the 
mountains  to  swallow  us ;  but  your  long-shooting  gun  is 
now  no  better  than  a  stick." 

She  turned  with  blazing  eyes  upon  Phil. 

"And  you,  that  call  yourself  the  white  Cayuse  —  you 
who  say  that  your  heart  is  red  with  the  red  blood  of  the 


TRAPPED  295 

Indian  —  you  are  of  that  foul  brood,  and  because  of  it 
you  shall  now  die  !  " 

The  prisoners  were  conducted  into  the  council  lodge, 
where  Umtippi  came,  and  Waskema,  and  the  chiefs  and 
head  men  gathered.  Outside  of  the  lodge  entrance, 
and  all  about,  sat  the  gabbling  squaws  and  the  whisper- 
ing, peering  children.  The  squaws  were  even  more  fierce 
than  the  warriors.  They  seemed  veritable  harpies,  desir- 
ous of  tearing  the  prisoners  Hmb  from  Hmb.  Now 
and  then  they  screamed  their  hate  and  cried  aloud  in 
fierce  declamation. 

Within  the  lodge  Matpah  stood  up,  accusing  the 
prisoners  of  stealing  ponies  from  Stikine's  village. 
This  was  not  enough,  however,  and  he  added  to  this 
charge  another,  which  to  the  Indian  mind  was  blacker, 
that  of  lifting  the  long-shooting  gun  of  the  white  man 
against  the  Indians  of  Oregon. 

There  was  a  very  babel  of  denunciation  and  confu- 
sion after  these  charges  were  made ;  and  it  was  only 
stilled  when  an  old  chief  rose  to  ask  questions,  and  then 
to  speak  his  mind  on  the  subject.  He  proved  himself 
to  be  a  white-haired  conser\^ative. 

"The  blood  of  the  young  flows  hot  in  their  veins,"  he 
said,  as  he  hfted  his  trembling  hands  and  peered  with 
his  aged  eyes  into  the  excited  faces  of  the  chiefs  and 
head  men  who  were  assembled  there.     "  I  am  old,  and 


296  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

I  know !  I  have  seen  the  flowers  of  many  summers 
and  the  snows  of  many  winters.  The  frost  has  left  its 
powder  in  my  hair.  The  thing  you  would  do  to-day  is 
evil,  and  only  evil.  I  do  not  love  the  white  man.  It  is 
because  I  love  the  Indian  that  I  speak.  The  white 
men  are  in  Oregon.  They  are  strong  fighters,  and  they 
have  long-shooting  guns.  They  have  ponies,  too  — 
many,  many  ponies.  Even  now  some  of  them,  with 
their  guns  and  their  ponies,  are  in  these  hills.  More 
will  come." 

He  paused  and  looked  about,  to  observe  the  effect  of 
his  words. 

'*  Not  all  the  Cayuses  are  of  one  mind.  The  older 
chiefs,  like  myself,  see  trouble  in  this  thing.  Pio-pio- 
mox-mox  is  not  here ;  Stikine  is  not  here ;  many  other 
chiefs  whose  words  are  good,  and  whose  counsel  is  wise, 
are  not  here.  I  see  about  me  only  young  men  with  hot 
hearts  and  foolish  heads  —  men  like  Matpah,  who  has 
been  a  chief  but  a  few  moons.  I  say  to  these  young 
men,  that  the  white  men  can  strike  hard  and  reach  far. 
Do  not  do  this  thing  that  ye  contemplate." 

Phil's  fear  had  grown  as  the  old  man  talked.  Until 
that  time  he  had  felt  that  his  position  was  unpleasant, 
and  might  even  be  perilous ;  yet  he  had  comforted  him- 
self with  the  belief  that  Matpah  would  not  proceed  to 
extremes,  because  even  he  must  have  known  that  in  the 


TRAPPED 


297 


end  he  would  be  compelled  to  reckon  with  old  Tilskit, 
who  was  a  power  wherever  the  Cayuses  camped  or 
roamed. 

Now  he  saw  that  all  fear  of  Tilskit  had  been  swept 
out  of  the  hearts  of  these  young  chiefs  and  head  men. 
Matpah,  in  his  rage,  was  ready  to  go  to  any  length,  and 
these  foolish  young  men  were  ready  to  follow  him. 
Nothing  could  appease  the  hate  of  the  young  chief 
except  the  death  of  these,  his  enemies. 

Whatever  the  thoughts  of  John  Curtis  were,  he  man- 
aged to  conceal  them  well.  With  an  air  of  calmness, 
he  listened  to  the  speeches.  He  gave  close  attention 
to  the  address  of  the  old  white-haired  chief.  Now  and 
then  he  glanced  at  Phil,  as  if  he  would  encourage  him. 
Matpah  leaped  to  his  feet  as  soon  as  the  old  man  sat 
down,  and  words  to  shatter  his  arguments  came  hot  to 
his  lips.     He  was  not  to  be  cheated  of  his  revenge. 


CHAPTER   XXVI 

THE   HEROISM   OF   OLD   TILSKIT 

IN  spite  of  his  determination  to  show  no  fear  in  the 
presence  of  his  father  and  of  these  staring  Indians, 
the  heart  of  Phil  Curtis  sank  with  dread  as  he  listened 
to  the  fiery  denunciations  of  the  young  chief.  Mat- 
pah  recalled,  with  stinging  words,  all  the  evil  deeds 
he  could  remember  which  the  white  men  had  done 
against  the  Oregon  Indians  since  the  first  white  trapper 
had  crossed  the  mountains  in  pursuit  of  the  beaver. 
He  took  up  the  arguments  of  Delaware  Tom,  of 
Dorion,  and  the  other  half-breeds,  and  worked  them 
to  his  own  uses. 

Waskema,  standing  just  within  the  lodge  entrance, 
with  the  babbling  women  behind  her,  seemed  to  give 
strength  to  his  words,  while  she  searched  the  faces 
of  the  assembled  Indians  with  her  keen  eyes. 

"  Ay,  remember  the  words  of  Waskema,"  she  chanted 
in  a  sing-song  monotone,  now  and  then  rocking  her 
body  to  and  fro  as  she  leaned  on  her  stick.  "  Ay, 
remember  the  words  and  the  warning  of  Waskema !  — 

298 


THE    HEROISM   OF   OLD   TILSKIT  299 

The  white  brood  that  came  over  the  great  mountains, 
and  now  smis  itself  in  the  valleys  of  Oregon,  must  be 
destroyed,  like  the  brood  of  the  serpent  that  suns  itself 
on  the  rocks." 

The  emotional  oratory  of  Matpah,  and  the  sing-song 
utterances  of  the  sorceress,  were  stirring  the  Indians 
to  a  pitch  of  fiery  enthusiasm  and  filling  them  with 
an  uncontrollable  thirst  for  vengeance  against  the 
whites,  when  a  clattering  of  hoofs  was  heard  outside, 
and  the  voices  of  the  women  and  children  hfted  in  a 
changed  and  higher  key. 

The  light  thud  of  springing  steps  falling  on  the 
earth  penetrated  to  the  council  lodge,  bringing  to  a 
sudden  halt  the  speech  of  Matpah  and  the  muttering 
of  Waskema.  The  women  at  the  entrance  dashed 
aside,  squabbling  and  scrambling.  Then,  with  a  flirt 
of  the  hand  that  threw  open  wide  the  beaver-skin 
flap  at  the  entrance,  old  Tilskit  himself  came  into  the 
lodge. 

His  brown  cheeks  were  hollowed  like  those  of  a 
skeleton,  and  his  hooked  nose  was  sharp  as  the  beak 
of  a  bird.  His  fierce  eyes  glowed  with  fever  bright- 
ness. He  seemed  a  spectre,  not  a  man,  as  he  strode 
thus  into  the  midst  of  the  council  lodge. 

"  Hear  me !  "  he  said,  speaking  in  a  shrill  voice  and 
lifting  his  long,   thin  fingers   with   a  dramatic    sweep. 


300  A   COURIER   OF    EMPIRE 

*'  Hear  me,  ye  Cayuses  and  Nez  Perces ;  I  have  the 
great  disease ! " 

All  the  Indians  were  drawing  back  in  fear  and 
terror.  Even  Matpah  was  shrinking  before  him. 
They  had  beheld  victims  of  the  great  disease,  as 
they  called  measles,  and  it  scarcely  needed  his  words 
to  tell  them  that  it  had  fastened  itself  upon  him. 

Waving  his  hand,  Tilskit  stood  for  a  moment  before 
them,  his  eyes  searching  their  faces  with  burning 
glances.  To  their  overwrought  fancies  he  seemed  a 
very  angel  of  pestilence,  his  breath  carrying  the  seeds 
of  death.  They  knew  that  the  great  disease  struck 
its  victims  down  in  most  mysterious  ways.  They 
knew  that  if  one  who  was  well  only  went  near  it,  it 
fell  upon  him  in  some  strange  manner. 

Seeing  the  effect  of  his  presence,  Tilskit  strode 
boldly  across  the  lodge,  with  the  Indians  retreating 
before  him,  until  he  came  to  the  prisoners.  Here  he 
stopped,  and  again  turned  upon  the  assembled  chiefs 
and  head  men. 

''This  is  my  son,"  he  said,  waving  his  hand  toward 
Phil.  *'  He  is  the  white  Cayuse  whom  I  took  into 
my  lodge  and  my  heart  when  my  own  son  was 
swallowed  by  the  great  river.  I  did  that  because  he 
saved  the  life  of  Timuitti,  and  because  my  heart 
ached    in   its   emptiness,   and   the    heart   of   Timuitti's 


THE    HEROISM    OF   OLD   TILSKIT  301 

mother  cried  out  in  desolation.  Word  came  to  me 
but  an  hour  ago  that  the  council  had  gathered,  and 
now  I  am  here." 

Waskema  broke  in  on  him  vituperatively. 

"  It  is  the  white  men  who  brought  the  great 
disease  into  Oregon  !  If  it  has  sunk  its  talons  into 
you  like  the  hawk,  the  white  men  are  the  ones  who 
are  to  blame  !  " 

Tilskit  bent  on  her  his  fever-bright  eyes.  There 
was  sadness  in  his  pinched  face  and  in  his  tones,  as 
he  replied :  — 

"  Waskema  does  not  know  what  she  speaks.  But 
a  little  while  ago,  when  I  knew  that  the  white  Cayuse 
and  his  father  had  been  taken  and  brought  to  this 
place,  I  heard  a  voice.  It  was  the  voice  of  the  White 
Salmon  —  the  medicine  salmon — which  spoke  to  me 
when  I  was  but  a  boy  and  wandered  into  the  woods 
and  mountains,  seeking  for  the  spirit  voice  that  was 
to  guide  me.  The  White  Salmon  spoke  to  me,  and 
told  me  that  this  thing,  which  I  knew  ye  would  do, 
should  not  be ;  that  I  should  arise  and  ride  to  this 
council,   even   though   the  great  disease  was  on  me." 

"  If  the  white  man  has  cast  the  great  disease  upon 
you,   you  will    die !  "    shouted    old  Waskema,    fiercely. 

Tilskit  still  looked  at  her  mournfully  and  sadly. 

"  If  it  is  the  will  of  the  Great  Spirit  that  I  die,  I 


302  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

shall  die ;  but  it  was  revealed  to  me  by  the  White 
Salmon  that  I  should  rescue  these  people,  especially 
my  son,  the  white  Cayuse,  who  saved  the  life  of 
Timuitti.  Though  the  great  disease  had  laid  its 
hand  upon  me,  when  the  medicine  salmon  whispered 
that  in  my  heart,  and  told  me  what  I  should  do,  I 
arose,  and  now  I  am  here." 

Again  the  harsh,  high  voice  of  Waskema  broke  out. 
There  was  a  murmuring  among  the  Indians,  led  by 
Matpah.  Tilskit  faced  them  unflinchingly,  stretching 
out  his  shaking  hand. 

"  My  touch  brings  death !  "  he  declared.  "  My  breath 
is  the  breath  of  the  pestilence !  If  you  come  near  me, 
it  will  slay  you,  even  as  it  may  slay  me.  The  great 
disease  slays,  and  none  can  hinder ;  but  it  spares  some- 
times even  those  whom  it  has  stricken.  It  laid  its  hand 
on  Timuitti,  yet  it  spared  him ;  and  if  I  obey  the  voice 
of  the  White  Salmon,  it  may  spare  me." 

Phil  Curtis,  who  had  been  hstening  intently  to  what 
was  said,  here  learned  for  the  first  time  that  Timuitti 
had  been  stricken  with  measles  and  had  recovered. 

High  rose  the  murmurs  of  the  Indians.  It  was  a 
critical  and  crucial  moment,  and  yet  no  one  dared 
approach  Tilskit.  He  observed  this,  and  stooping 
quickly  he  severed  the  bonds  of  the  prisoners  with  his 
knife. 


THE   HEROISM   OF   OLD   TILSKIT  3^3 

Outside,  wailing  voices  lifted ;  then  within  the  lodge 
loud  murmurings  arose.  The  temerity  of  old  Tilskit 
was  passing  strange.  Matpah's  face  flamed  with  anger. 
Others  of  the  younger  men  voiced  their  disapproval. 
Tilskit  held  them  at  bay  with  his  fevered  glance.  He 
stretched  out  his  quivering  hand. 

"To  the  chief  or  head  man  who  lays  hand  on  me  or 
on  these,  on  him  will  I  breathe,  and  he  will  have  the 
great  disease,  from  which  he  shall  not  recover !  " 

He  carried  his  wavering  hand  round  in  a  sweeping 
motion  toward  the  lodge  entrance.  He  turned  himself 
at  the  same  time.  John  Curtis  placed  his  numbed  hand 
on  the  shoulder  of  his  son. 

"Go!"    he  said  in    a   low  whisper.     "Go!    Tilskit 

will  save  us  !  " 

Phil  was  standing  erect  now,  but  his  whole  body 
trembled  and  his  limbs  seemed  to  be  sinking  under  him. 
His  muscles  were  stiff  and  sore  from  the  long  constriction 
of  the  binding  cords.  Yet  he  moved  toward  the  lodge 
entrance,  stepping  along  at  his  father's  side,  with  his 
heart  pounding  in  his  throat  in  a  way  that  almost 
choked  him. 

Old  Waskema  raised  her  rasping  voice  in  loud  dis- 
approval. Tilskit,  who  moved  now  at  the  side  of  the 
released  prisoners,  fixed  her  with  a  burning  glance. 
Over  her  head  he  lifted  his  shaking  hand. 


304  A   COURIER   OF  EMPIRE 

"Would  you  have  the  great  disease?"  he  demanded 
in  a  vibrant  tone. 

From  the  entrance,  women  and  children  were  fleeing 
with  low  cries  of  terror,  and  confusion  reigned  every- 
where. Behind  him  Phil  heard  the  chiefs  and  warriors 
clamoring  in  fear  and  anger. 

Old  Waskema  could  not  stand  before  the  blazing  eyes 
of  Tilskit ;  though  she  cried  out  against  him,  she  backed 
away,  mumbling.  Tilskit  passed  her  with  swinging 
strides,  hurrying  the  prisoners  on. 

Beyond,  at  a  little  distance,  sat  Timuitti,  mounted  on  a 
pony  and  holding  three  others. 

"  To  the  ponies ! "  said  Tilskit,  speaking,  as  he  had 
from  the  first,  in  the  Cayuse  tongue.  "To  the 
ponies  ! " 

Now  that  he  was  out  of  the  lodge  he  fairly  ran,  and 
John  Curtis  and  Phil  leaped  at  his  side.  In  a  moment, 
as  it  seemed,  Tilskit  had  mounted,  and  the  prisoners 
were  seated  in  the  rude  Cayuse  saddles.  The  old  chief 
lifted  a  whip  of  thongs,  with  which  he  lashed  his  horse. 
Phil  and  John  Curtis  plunged  their  heels  into  the  flanks 
of  the  ponies  and  gave  them  free  rein.  The  confused 
sounds  behind  v/ere  growing  in  volume.  The  outcries 
were  now  loud  protests. 
"Ride!"  called  Tilskit. 

"  Ride  !  "  echoed  John  Curtis. 


THE    HEROISM   OF   OLD   TILSKIT  305 

The  borders  of  the  village  were  gained.  Up  from 
the  timber-screened  lowland  toward  the  higher  slopes 
the  ponies  galloped,  speeding  as  if  they  were  racing 
over  a  level  roadway.  Timuitti  and  Tilskit  jerked  on 
the  skin  cords  attached  to  the  rawhide  bits  in  the 
ponies'   mouths. 

"  Ride!"  urged  Tilskit. 

''  Ride  !  "  responded  John  Curtis, 

The  clamor  behind  grew  into  a  wild  roar  that  flung 
itself  up  the  hills.  The  fear  of  the  great  disease, 
which  had  held  the  Indians  in  a  stupor  of  dismay,  was 
passing  away.  Matpah  was  beginning  to  see  that  he 
had  been  tricked.  Old  Waskema  was  screaming  her 
hate.  The  squaws,  feeling  that  they  had  been  cheated, 
were  making  the  air  vocal. 

Seizing  a  rifle,  Matpah  pitched  it  to  his  shoulder  and 
took  a  shot  at  the  escaping  prisoners.  He  was  too 
excited  to  aim  accurately,  and  in  addition  the  distance 
was  too  great.     The  bullet  fell  short. 

"  Pursue  them  !  "  he  commanded.  "  Pursue  them 
and  bring  them  back  !  " 

"  But  the  great  disease  !  "  cried  the  old  white-haired 
chief,  whose  words  of  counsel  had  been  overborne. 

Whatever  he  thought  of  the  action  of  Tilskit,  he 
was  at  least  not  unwilling  to  use  this  fear  to  stop  the 
pursuit. 


3o6  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

Hearing  him  cry  out  in  that  way,  many  of  the  war- 
riors and  chiefs  drew  back.  The  great  disease  was  a 
thing  not  to  be  despised.  It  had  struck  down  many 
Cayuses.  The  blow  of  a  bullet  or  an  arrow  they  could 
understand ;  but  this  pestilence,  that  came  from  where 
no  one  could  say,  was  a  thing  to  fill  them  with  strange 
dread.  They  hearkened  to  the  words  of  the  old  chief, 
and  halted.  But  Matpah  and  some  of  the  more  reck- 
less of  the  younger  men  rushed  to  their  ponies,  mounted, 
and  set  off  in  hot  chase  of  Tilskit  and  the  escaping 
prisoners. 

That  was  a  wild  ride  across  the  sugar-loaf  hills.  As 
Tilskit  and  Timuitti  and  the  rescued  captives  rode  on 
and  on,  galloping  fiercely  and  recklessly,  the  pursuers 
were  left  farther  and  farther  behind,  until  they  could  be 
neither  seen  nor  heard  any  longer. 

The  strength  that  upheld  old  Tilskit  seemed  strange 
and  unnatural.  He  crouched  weakly  in  his  saddle,  his 
eyes  were  hot  and  bright,  yet  an  inner  force  sustained 
him.  It  was  no  doubt  the  voice  which  he  had  believed 
to  be  the  voice  of  the  White  Salmon,  telling  him  that 
he  had  done  right,  and  urging  him  to  the  utmost  exer- 
tion.    Warm  spring  breezes  came,  as  if  to  cheer  him  on. 

"It  is  the  Chinook!"  he  cried  exultantly,  as  that 
warm  wind  from  the  sea  kissed  his  hot  cheeks.  "  It 
may  be  that  the  White  Salmon  makes  the  Chinook  to 
blow  !     Who  knows  .''  " 


THE   HEROISM   OF   OLD  TILSKIT  307 

•'Who  knows  ?  "  said  John  Curtis,  in  response. 

What  to  old  Tilskit  was  the  voice  of  the  White 
Sah-non  was  to  John  Curtis  the  voice  of  God.  It  seemed 
to  him  it  might  be  that  God  made  the  Chinook  blow 
soft  from  the  sea  to  give  strength  and  encouragement 
to  this  heroic  old  Indian. 

In  spite  of  all,  it  was  to  Tilskit  an  exhausting  ride. 
When  he  reached  the  camp  of  the  mountain  men,  which 
had  been  from  the  first  his  destination,  he  dropped  for- 
ward, weak  and  helpless,  on  the  neck  of  his  pony,  and 
but  for  Phil,  who  leaped  to  aid  him,  would  have  fallen 
headlong  to  the  ground. 

"He   has   fainted!"  Phil   cried   out  in  a  tremor  of 

fright. 

The  men,  who  had  started  up  when  they  beheld 
these  galloping  figures,  swarmed  about  now  to  offer 
assistance.  Tilskit  was  lifted  from  his  saddle  by  gentle 
hands  and  laid  on  a  buffalo  robe. 

In  a  few  quick  words,  John  Curtis  told  the  mountain 
men  and  Tom  McKay,  their  commander,  what  Tilskit 
had    done,    and    what    he    himself    and  his    son  had 

suffered. 

Some  strips  of  canvas  were  stretched  to  make  a 
tent  for  Tilskit,  and  what  remedies  the  men  had  were 
brought  out.  Phil  and  Timuitti  hovered  over  the 
sick   man,    anxious  to  do  something,  and   almost  in  a 


3o8  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

panic  of  fright ;  but  the  old  chief  did  not  come  of  a 
fainting  race,  and  he  quickly  recovered  conscious- 
ness. 

As  soon  as  he  found  opportunity  Timuitti  acquainted 
Phil  Curtis  and  the  mountaineers  with  the  story  of  his 
own  adventures,  which  enabled  them  to  understand  how 
it  came  about  that  Tilskit  had  appeared  so  opportunely 
in  the  council  lodge. 

Timuitti  had  been  out  in  the  hills,  digging  roots  to 
make  medicine  for  his  father,  who  had  been  stricken 
down  but  the  day  before.  He  had  suffered,  himself, 
from  the  great  disease,  he  said,  and  he  hoped  the  roots 
which  helped  him  then  would  help  his  father. 

It  was  while  thus  engaged,  with  his  pony  tied  some 
distance  away,  that  he  observed  the  camp-fire  smoke 
which  Phil  had  also  seen ;  and  almost  immediately  he 
beheld  some  Indians  attack  John  Curtis  and  drag  him 
down.     In  the  party  he  recognized  Matpah. 

After  that  he  was  afraid  to  go  down  to  the  camp-fire, 
seeing  that  Curtis  had  been  made  a  prisoner,  and  that 
Matpah  was  in  command.  He  had  lain  on  the  hillside 
looking  down  at  the  camp-fire,  and  had  noticed  that  the 
Indians  concealed  themselves  again.  It  seemed  to  him 
they  were  hiding  from  some  one.  When  he  had 
remained  there  a  long  time,  not  able  to  determine  on 
any  course  of  action,  he  had  seen   Phil  Curtis  appear, 


THE   HEROISM   OF   OLD   TILSKIT  309 

almost  in  the   midst  of  the    Indians,  who  at  once  set 
upon  him,  as  they  had  set  upon  his  father. 

Then  Timuitti  had  risen  in  fright  and  scampered 
away.  Getting  his  horse,  he  had  ridden  in  hot  haste 
to  his  father's  village,  and  there  had  told  him  and 
Neekomy  what  he  had  seen. 

Tilskit  now  heard  Timuitti,  as  he  narrated  this  story. 

*'  It  was  then  that  I  heard  the  voice  of  the  White 
Salmon,"  he  said.  "  The  White  Salmon  told  me  to 
go,  and  I  went.  Because  I  obeyed  the  voice,  it  may 
be  that  I  shall  not  die  of  the  great  disease." 

"There's  an  Injun  that  ought  to  have  been  born  a 
white  man,"  said  Tom  McKay. 

''  Ay,  McKay,  but  you're  right ! "  John  Curtis 
assented,  and  the  mountain  men  agreed  with  him. 

They  built  a  hut  there  to  shelter  Tilskit,  and  put 
in  it  such  things  as  they  could  spare.  McKay  was 
to  go  on  with  his  men  ;  and  he  asked  many  questions 
of  John  Curtis,  and  of  Phil  and  Timuitti,  concerning 
the  village  of  Matpah  and  the  number  of  Indians  in  it. 

"Ay,  when  we  strike  them  we  will  drive  them  like 
a  whirlwind,"  he  declared  with  energy. 

Preparations  for  departure  were  already  being  made. 
John  and  Phil  Curtis  and  Timuitti  were  to  remain  to 
do  what  thev  could  for  Tilskit  and  endeavor  to  nurse 
him  to  health. 


3IO  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

Phil  was  thankful  that  Whitman  had  instructed  him 
so  well  in  the  treatment  of  measles.  He  had  but  little 
medicine,  but  he  and  his  father  and  Timuitti  were  well 
acquainted  with  the  virtues  of  the  roots  and  herbs 
which  were  to  be  obtained  along  the  streams  and  in 
the  hills.  These  they  procured,  and  of  them  made 
teas  and  decoctions. 

"  A  man  who  could  make  a  ride  like  that  is  not  going 
to  die  easily,"  said  John  Curtis,  in  a  hopeful  tone. 

In  his  half-lucid  moments  the  old  chief  babbled  like  a 
child,  speaking  of  the  White  Salmon.  It  was  talking  to 
him,  he  thought,  and  was  telling  him  he  had  done  well. 

The  third  day  after  the  departure  of  the  men  Tilskit 
came  out  of  what  appeared  to  be  a  state  of  uncon- 
sciousness and  announced  in  a  triumphant  voice  that 
the  White  Salmon  had  told  him  he  was  to  get  well. 

Measles  had  proved  deadly  to  the  Indians  of  Oregon, 
but  the  reason  was  not  far  to  seek.  They  trusted  to 
the  foolish  methods  of  the  medicine  men ;  and  now 
and  then  when  hot  with  fever  one  would  leap  from  his 
skin  cot  and  jump  into  the  cold  water  of  the  river. 
When  he  arose  to  the  surface,  he  was  either  dead  or 
dying. 

Tilskit's  nurses  were  of  the  best,  and  after  his  an- 
nouncement that  the  voice  of  the  White  Salmon  had 
said  he  was  to  get  well,  he  began  to  improve  rapidly. 


CHAPTER   XXVII 
CONCLUSION 

TOM  McKAY  and  his  band  struck  the  village  of 
Matpah  like  a  whirlwind,  as  he  had  promised. 
Matpah  rallied  his  followers  and  made  a  desperate 
stand,  but  he  was  defeated ;  and  in  that  fight  Umtippi, 
the  medicine  man,  was  slain. 

There  were  other  fights  and  sharp  brushes  with  the 
Indians,  with  innumerable  adventures,  while  Phil  Curtis, 
his  father,  and  Timuitti  were  nursing  old  Tilskit  back 
to  health. 

When  the  chief  was  able  to  return  to  his  village  and 
his  lodge,  Phil  and  John  Curtis  rejoined  Tom  McKay 
and  the  riflemen,  among  whom  they  found  Ben  Allen. 

Waskema,  after  the  defeat  of  Matpah,  took  refuge 
with  the  warlike  Klamaths ;  and  under  her  inspiration 
they  were  raiding  settlements,  destroying  stock,  and 
attacking  lonely  cabins. 

McKay's  force  moved  against  them.  The  Klamaths 
fled,  but  made    a  final   stand    in    the  Abiqua  bottoms. 

^11 


312  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

Here,  behind  a  shelter  of  rock  walls,  they  awaited  the 
advance  of  McKay's  men. 

"We  must  charge  them,"  said  McKay.  *' Our  rifles 
can  do  nothing  against  these  rocks,  so  we  shall  have  to 
rout  them  out." 

Phil  Curtis  and  Ben  Allen  were  in  the  very  forefront 
of  the  riflemen  as  they  moved  against  the  intrenched 
Klamaths.  From  behind  the  rock  walls,  arrows  fluttered 
and  guns  flamed.  Indian  yells  rose  clamorously,  until 
the  very  air  seemed  to  shake.  On  the  right  and  on  the 
left  Phil  saw  men  drop. 

"  Fire  !  "  came  the  quick,  sharp  voice  of  McKay. 

The  long-shooting  rifles  flashed  and  roared.  Then 
the  riflemen  dashed  forward,  cheering  as  they  ran; 
and  the  Klamaths,  broken  by  that  charge,  fled  in  wild 
disorder. 

Old  Waskema  lay  behind  the  rock  walls  among  the 
slain,  her  fierce  face  distorted  by  hate  and  her  claw- 
like hands  clutching  a  bow  of  Oregon  yew.  She  had 
died  fighting. 

As  Phil  Curtis  looked  into  her  face,  he  was  filled 
with  a  deep  sorrow.  She  had  been  vindictive  and 
implacable ;  but  she  had  been  consistent  in  her  enmity 
of  the  whites,  and  she  had  loved  her  people. 

The  hotly  pursued  murderers  of  Marcus  Whitman 
sought  refuge  now  beyond  the  Rockies.      The  warlike 


CONCLUSION  313 

Indian  bands  submitted,  begging  for  peace.  Five 
Crows,  severely  wounded,  died  in  the  village  of  Chief 
Joseph.  Joe  Lewis,  the  Cherokee  half-breed,  fled  to  the 
Great   Salt  Lake. 

Pio-pio-mox-mox,  'Hlskit,  Chief  Joseph,  and  some 
others  had  taken  no  part  in  the  war. 

Among  the  white  men  who  did  not  return  from  the 
campaigns  was  Colonel  Guilliam. 

When  the  riflemen,  worn  out  by  constant  pursuit, 
turned  back  toward  the  settlements,  some  of  the  Nez 
Perces,  to  prove  that  they  were  friendly  to  the  white 
men  and  held  the  slayers  of  Marcus  Whitman  in 
detestation,  pursued  the  murderers  and  those  who  still 
duns:  to  their  fortunes.  It  was  a  hot  chase,  ending 
on  John  Day  River,  where  a  furious  pitched  battle 
was  fought,  in  which  the  Nez  Perces  were  victorious. 
Matpah  was  numbered  with  the  slain. 

The  Xez  Perces  took  many  captives.  Five  of  the 
Indians  thus  taken  and  delivered  to  the  white  men 
were,  after  due  trial,  hanged  at  Oregon  City  for  the 
murder  of  Marcus  Whitman  and  those  who  fell  at 
Waiilatpu.  Among  them  was  black-faced  Tiloukaikt, 
once  a  member  of  Whitman's  mission  church. 

Thus  the  Cayuse  War  ended,  and  peace  reigned 
again  in  Oregon. 

Until  the   day  of  his  death,  John  McLoughlin  made 


314  A   COURIER   OF   EMPIRE 

his  home  in  Oregon  City.  It  is  sad  to  say  that,  though 
he  had  lost  his  position  with  the  Hudson  Bay  Company 
because,  it  was  beHeved,  he  had  been  too  generous  and 
yielding  in  his  treatment  of  the  settlers,  this  kindness 
was   not  properly  returned  by  the  Americans. 

McLoughlin  was  not  the  only  man,  however,  whose 
courage  and  goodness  were  better  understood  and 
appreciated  by  a  later  generation  than  by  his  own. 
That  was  Hkewise  the  fate  of  Marcus  Whitman. 
What  he  did  for  Oregon  has  been  much  more  fully 
recognized  in  recent  years  than  when  the  heroic 
deeds  were  done. 

To-day  a  tall  and  graceful  shaft  of  granite  marks 
the  grave  of  Marcus  Whitman  and  the  graves  of  all 
those  who  fell  with  him  in  the  massacre  at  Waiilatpu. 
In  addition,  a  college  bearing  his  name  has  been  es- 
tablished in  the  city  of  Walla  Walla,  but  a  few  miles 
from  the  site  of  his  mission  station.  But  Oregon 
itself,  saved  to  the  Union  by  his  famous  ride,  is  his 
greatest  and  best  monument. 

A  few  words  should  be  written  concerning  those 
whose  adventurous  deeds  and  heroic  conduct  have  been 
most  closely  chronicled. 

Ben  Allen,  the  Indiana  lad,  became  a  prominent  and 
respected  citizen  of  the  new  Oregon  ;  while  Tom  McKay 
and  John  Curtis  lived  many  years  to  trap  the  beaver  and 


CONCLUSION  315 

follow  the  deer  in  the  mountains.  Old  Tilskit  and  Pio- 
pio-mox-mox  were  until  the  end  honored  chiefs  in  their 
respective  bands,  and  Timuitti,  called  afterward  Timo- 
thy, became  a  preacher  of  the  gospel,  and  did  much  to 
reestabhsh  mission  work  among  the  Oregon  Indians. 

As  for  Phil  Curtis,  he  was,  some  time  after  the  close 
of  the  Cayuse  War,  married  to  Cora  Carlton;  and  for 
many  years  they  dwelt  at  Walla  Walla,  honored  and 
loved  by  all  who  knew  them. 


WITH     FREMONT 
THE  PATHFINDER 

OR,    The    Winning    of    the   Empire   of     Gold 

By  John  II.  Whit  son 

J20  pp.     Illustrated.     Cloth,  $i-SO 


A  story  in  which  care  has  been  taken  to  preserve  historical 
accuracy.  The  account  of  the  discovery  of  gold  in  Califor- 
nia is  realistic,  and  the  book  is  one  which  boys  East  and 
West  will  thoroughly  enjoy. — Bulletin. 

The  names  of  both  book  and  author  suggest  an  Indian 
story,  but  it  is  also  history  in  the  form  of  fiction,  for  nearly 
every  character,  save  Bruce  Gordon  and  his  blood  relatives, 
had  a  real  existence. — Two  States. 

In  this  volume  the  writer  has  introduced  much  valuable 
and  historical  information,  filling  the  story  with  incidents  of 
a  dramatic  and  stirring  kind.  The  pen  portraits  of  Fremont, 
Alexander  Godey,  Kit  Carson,  Maxwell,  and  Owens  are  true 
to  life,  and  the  main  threads  of  the  narrative  are  true  to  the 
facts  of  history. — Herald  and  Presbyter. 

The  mere  mention  of  Fremont  and  the  conquest  of  the 
country  west  of  the  Rockies  is  enough  to  set  the  heart  of 
the  average  boy  a-thrill.  The  story  presents  faithful  portraits 
of  many  of  the  great  border  men,  and  the  book  will  be  almost 
as  interesting  to  the  older  people  as  to  the  young  folks, — 
Epworth  Herald. 

The  name  of  Fremont  should  be  kept  alive  in  the  minds  of 
each  generation,  and  a  strong,  stirring  story  like  the  present 
volume  will  appeal  to  a  large  number  of  readers.  It  is  to  be 
especially  recommended  to  young  people,  as  its  descriptions 
of  Fremont  and  the  men  associated  with  him  are  very  able, 
and  the  historic  portion  of  the  story  is  in  accord  with  facts. 
—  Watchman. 


By  Everett  T.  Tomlinson 

Author  of  the  "  War  of  the  Revolution  Series" 

^'The    Colonial    Series'' 

EACH  VOLUME  FULLY   ILLUSTRATED 
PRICE,  $1.50 

With  Flintlock  and  Fife 

A    STORY    OF    THE     FRENCH    AND    INDIAN 
WARS  AND  THE  BATTLE  OF  LAKE    GEORGE 

IN  I7S5-    356  pp. 

A  story  setting  forth,  as  this  does,  the  hardships  of  the 
early  pioneers  in  New  York  State  cannot  help  but  prove 
both  entertaining  and  instructive  to  the  younger  readers. — 
Chicago  Post. 

This  book,  like  Mr.  Tomlinson's  other  stirring  patriotic 
stories,  is  calculated  to  cultivate  a  taste  for  history  among 
our  growing  youth  and  inspire  them  to  brave  deeds  and  noble 
aims. — Observer. 

A  story  like  this  will  stimulate  patriotic  study  of  history, 
and  will  help  to  lay  the  foundation  for  intelligent,  loyal  citi- 
zenship.— Christian  Endeavor  World. 

The  Fort  in  the  Forest 

THE    STORY    OF    THE    FALL    OF    FORT   WIL- 
LIAM HENRY  IN  1755.    341  pp. 

This  volume  takes  its  readers  through  that  portion  of  our 
early  history  when  the  French  and  Indians  combined,  and 
constantly  made  expeditions  down  into  our  sparsely  inhab- 
ited communities. 

It  is  a  story  full  of  the  adventurous  life  of  the  times,  when 
intrigue  on  the  part  of  the  Indians  had  to  be  met  by  the  same 
on  the  part  of  the  colonists.  These  many  early  engagements 
proved  to  be  the  foundation  stones  upon  which  was  built  the 
spirit  of  1775. 

It  contains  the  patriotic  spirit  and  enthusiasm  which  have 
made  Dr.  Tomlinson's  stories  for  boys  so  popular. 

Other  volumes  in  preparation. 


The    Sword   of  Wayne 

A   Story  of  the  Way  He  Smote  the    Indians  and 
Brought  Them  to  Sue  for  Peace 

By  Charles  S.  Wood 
370  pp.     Illustrated.     Cloth^  %i'50 


You  have  a  splendid  story,  and  it  will  be  good  for  boys  to 
listen  to  you,  and  for  old  people,  too.  You  help  to  make  the 
interest  in  our  country's  history  deeper  and  more  intelligent. 
Prof.  Henry  Van  Dyke,  Princeton  College. 

The  book  is  one  which  will  strongly  appeal  to  boys,  and 
should  furnish  entertaining  reading  for  the  youth  of  the 
country,  and  could  well  be  recommended  to  teachers  as  giving 
one  of  the  best  histories  of  the  career  of  General  Wayne.  — 
Press-  Republic. 

This  story  describes  in  a  graphic  and  entertaining  way 
the  struggles  which  took  place  between  the  white  settlers  and 
the  Indians  at  an  early  period  of  Ohio's  history.  —  The  Daily 
Journal. 

The  book  depicts  in  a  way  interesting  to  young  readers 
some  of  the  brave  acts  of  the  famous  "Mad  Anthony."  He 
was  just  the  hero  the  small  boy  likes  to  lionize,  as  he  breath- 
lessly follows  his  career  from   page    to  ^2.gt.— Advance. 

The  hardships  and  perils  of  the  pioneers  are  here  strikingly 
portrayed,  as  also  their  courage  and  fertility  of  resource 
in  conflicts  with  the  wily  savages.  The  domestic  and  love 
scenes  are  very  charming,  and  some  of  the  characters  are  ex- 
ceedingly winning  and  di&\\^\iyx\.— Watchman. 


Fighting   Under 

the  Southern   Cross. 

A  Story  of  the  Chile-Peruvian  War. 

BY 

CLAUDE  H.    WETMORE. 

335  pages.  Illustrated.  i2mo.  Cloth,  $1.50. 


CONTAINING  PRONOUNCING   VOCABULARY 
AND  MAP  OP  CALLAO  BAY 


This  is  one  of  the  best  stories  for  boys  that  has  been  issued,  and 
with  great  pleasure  we  lieartily  recommend  it. — Observer. 

This  story  is  full  of  thrilling  interest  and  dramatic  power.  The 
many  picturesque  descriptions  give  a  real  portrayal  of  the  country 
and  its  people. — Book  News. 

This  volume  is  so  real  that  one  imagines  he  is  in  the  centre  of 
action.  This  doubtless  is  due  to  the  author's  thorough  acquaintance 
with  the  customs  and  conditions  of  these  countries. — St.  Louis  Star, 

Just  now  when  there  are  so  many  reminders  of  the  differences 
existing  bet\veen  the  South  American  States,  and  while  the  influ- 
ence of  the  Pan-American  Congress  in  Mexico  is  being  so  strongly 
felt,  this  book  is  very  timely.  It  is  a  very  vivid  picture  of  the  war 
between  Chile  and  Peru  in  1879,  arrd  a  portrayal  of  the  customs  and 
manners  of  these  states  that  is  extremely  interesting,  and  that  throws 
much  light  on  present  problems. — Christian  Endeavor  World. 

The  bitter  war  of  conquest  waged  by  Chile  against  Peru  has  never 
been  given  any  popular  presentation  until  now.  The  author  is  a 
traveler  who  has  covered  all  of  South  America  and  was  a  resident  of 
Peru  when  the  war  broke  out.  His  picture  of  that  period  is  absorb- 
ingly interesting,  and  the  promised  sequel  of  this  volume  will  be 
awaited  with  great  eagerness. —  Tlie  hiierior. 

W.  A.  WILDE  COMPANY,  Boston  and  Chicago. 


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